The Calm
by airtrafficstreams
Summary: The past repeats itself as the Island is forced into evacuation from a fatal storm. Chelsea and the islanders struggle to accept that they may never go back home, as Vaughn enters a battle against his feelings for the farmer. AU.
1. Evacuation

**Chapter 1**

Vaughn watched from one of the ferry's windows as low-lying clouds gradually swallowed the Island, like a ravenous beast devouring its preferred prey. He could barely see the ocean waves that advanced upon on their defenseless island with every wave that crashed ashore, growing in strength and size. This could be the last time he will ever see the Islands.

The winds howled and whistled angrily outside, and Vaughn turned and sat down to watch the only broadcasting television on the ferry. Most everyone from the Island was gathered in the lobby area, watching for the most recent storm updates. The last report, shown not long after they had boarded, had stated that the winds were beginning to reach speeds of ninety miles per hour, and were expected to rise in the next twelve hours.

The Island's residents were in a panic. Most of the children were too young to truly understand what was happening, but even so were in tears, frightened by the reaction of the group as a whole. Most of them had brought next to nothing with them, unable to with the limited amount of time for evacuation they had been given. Sitting in seats next to him, Mirabelle and Julia watched the television intensely, hands gripped together tightly. As Vaughn watched them, Julia felt his stare and turned towards him. Upon meeting eyes, hers immediately filled with tears, and she leaned her head on her mother's shoulder. Mirabelle looked to him next, more composed than her daughter, but her own repressed misery shone through her eyes.

Vaughn didn't want to look anymore. Instead, he looked around the room again, this time catching sight of the old man, Taro. He was talking to one of the emergency evacuation team members that had helped the islanders get off the Island. If it hadn't been for them, they might not have made it off at all.

Taro was waving his arms around, still clutching that rotten old stick he always carried around for some reason. The man shook his head, frowning, and pointed to where everyone else was gathered in a cluster of bodies. Taro glared, and for a minute Vaughn thought he was going to start an argument, but with a huff he turned on his heel and sat down amongst his daughter and grandchildren.

Vaughn had overheard Mirabelle and Felicia speaking earlier about the call that Taro received in the early morning from the closest city that warned the Island about the impending storm. All the two women had known for sure was that they didn't have much time to get out, and that the city's evacuation team would be there at 6 a.m. If the Islanders weren't ready at that time, the rescue team would leave them behind.

With fast cooperation and collaboration, all of the residents had managed to get on the rescue ferry at 6 a.m. on the dot, more or less with enough supplies to last the ride. Vaughn had managed to swipe a change of clothes, enough money to last him at least two weeks, a few water bottles, his work passport, and of course, his Stetson. Maybe it was selfish of him to have thought of mainly himself when packing for evacuation, but the way he saw it, it's not like anyone else here did much different. Except for Mirabelle, maybe. Or Chelsea.

Chelsea. One of the few people on the Island whom he could consider having the title of "friend" after three years. He hadn't seen her, yet. It disturbed him, the unfamiliar feeling of apprehension that blossomed like a weed, deep in his chest.

Looking for the aforementioned girl, Vaughn scanned the room. There were twenty people on the ferry, not including the crew or evacuators. The two natives that lived at the top of the island in the jungles were not onboard either. Vaughn had watched Chelsea from the animal shop's window as she made a mad dash for Wada and Shea's hut, only for her to return alone, soaked and windblown. According to her, they "had no place in such strange thing as boat. Would rather stay on Island, risk dying on the only place they knew as home."

Vaughn couldn't really blame them.

He got to his feet once he spotted her, curled up in one of plush chairs with her dog, Mack. Everyone had witnessed the spectacle between Chelsea and the ferry's captain, who didn't allow animals onboard. Chelsea had threatened not to board if her dog wasn't allowed on, one of the few possessions she held value to. Eventually, the captain gave way, as the winds had picked up speed and the waves were reaching the ferry's deck. Both of them sat on the chair soaking wet, and Vaughn recognized one of Mirabelle's old afghans spread over both girl and dog.

Her eyes were bloodshot and vacant, staring at nothing in particular, as he sat down in the seat next to her. Vaughn clasped his hands together on his lap and leaned backwards, peering at Chelsea from the corner of his eyes.

For the longest time, they sat in silence. Mack squirmed around underneath the afghan until he found a comfortable position, before he too lapsed into the quiet. Vaughn continued to watch the people he'd lived with, more or less, for the past three years. Gannon and Chen sat near each other, watching the broadcast dully while their children, Eliza and Charlie, slept on their laps. Most of the younger adults sat together in a huddled group; Lanna, Denny, Pierre, Mark, and Sabrina. Vaughn had not seen Alisa, Nathan, or Regis, but assumed that they had found refuge in another part of the ferry.

Out of nowhere, the talking amongst the group picked up in volume, voices overlapping and blending together. Vaughn turned his attention back to the television on reflex, listening in to the newest announcement. A serious looking blonde woman had appeared on the glaringly bright screen, next to a data chart.

"The hurricane predicted to hit the recently reformed vicinity otherwise known as 'The Sunshine Islands', or 'The Island of Happiness' will reach the isle in approximately ten hours, but the speed and atmospheric pressure of the wind suggests otherwise. Top wind speeds have been recorded at around ninety five miles per hour, which is borderline levels 1 and 2 on the Saffir - Simpson Hurricane Scale. In the meantime, those rescued from the Island and other surrounding areas are informed to stay put on the rescue boats you're currently on. If you are not already on a boat, there are several evacuation ferries on the way, so sit tight and try to stay in a safe place with evacuation and survival supplies at hand. Do not go outside. The boats already on the way back to our safe houses, our meteorologists would like it to be passed on that the wind and wave intensity may increase the longer you are out there, so it's advised to travel back as quickly and safely as possible."

At that, the woman's speaking was cut, and broadcasting returned to the generic information that had been showing for the last couple hours. Vaughn sighed through his nose quietly, and pulled his hat down. Out of habit, he glanced at Chelsea again from the corner of his eye.

She had changed positions, no longer hunched up in a compact bundle. Her legs were stretched out away from the chair, and her face turned away from him, towards a vacant wall of the ferry. From the windows, you could see the rain collide forcefully with the thick glass windows like liquid bullets.

"Chelsea…", Vaughn murmured. He waited for her to turn towards him, a small smile on her heart-shaped face. But she didn't. She didn't turn towards him, or even confirm that she had heard him say anything.

"Chelsea," he said more forcefully. "Look at me." They were far enough way from most of the group, due to Chelsea's selective seat choice. With slight hesitation, Vaughn reached out to touch her shoulder. She flinched away, before turning towards him sideways. He saw the tear tracks etching themselves down her cheeks, and he froze.

"What, Vaughn? What do you want? I'd appreciate it if you left me alone," she said hoarsely, clearing her throat. Wiping her eyes, she threw a feeble glare at him, daring him to say something.

A few seconds passed before Vaughn replied. "I don't think you're being all that fair," he drawled. "You're never leaving me alone, after all. I guess it's gonna be a mutual thing, now."

Vaughn had expected that his response would at least produce a smirk, but a rivulet of tears fell from her eyes as she squeezed them shut, her head on her knees. Mack whined and bumped his head against her ribcage, but Chelsea ignored him.

"Are you alright?", he asked quietly, looking around discreetly to make sure they weren't drawing attention. Vaughn thought that Chelsea would be mortified if people had seen her displaying weakness in this way.

"What a stupid question," her muffled voice whispered. She looked up at him again, her sapphire eyes glittering with unshed tears. "Do I look like I'm alright? Does anyone here look like they are _alright?" _

By the time she finished speaking, Chelsea was nearly shouting, and a few people cautiously glanced over to them. Standing up, Vaughn blocked Chelsea from the rest of them and grabbed her elbow, forcing her to stand up. "Let's go for a walk," he said.

"A walk? We're on a ferry, during a hurricane that's potentially going to destroy our home. And you want to go on a _walk?", _she began shouting again. This time, a few more people looked over to them, and Vaughn glared at them menacingly before guiding Chelsea out into one of the halls of the ferry.

She didn't fight, however. Complying with Vaughn, Chelsea led the way slowly, her eyes scaling the floor while tears dripped onto her boots. She still had the afghan wrapped around her narrow shoulders, and Vaughn found it almost endearing. They stopped once they reached one of the available resting rooms, and Vaughn immediately made a bee line for the coffee machine. With two full cups in both hands, he went over and sat next to Chelsea, who was sitting on the edge of the room's queen bed with Mack. With a small 'thank you', she took hers from him, and for the second time that day, slipped into silence.

With Chelsea, Vaughn never quite felt that silence was uncomfortable, like with some others. It was comfortable enough, and Vaughn preferred not having to speak to fill in the quiet.

"My animals", she said, looking up at him. "What are they going to do? And Shea and Wada…", she finished, her voice breaking on the last word. Vaughn watched as Chelsea lost the control he had always seen in her, and admired, though she didn't know that last part. He was at a loss of what to do, what to say. Who to be.

"There will always be new animals," he countered. "And I'm sure Shea and Wada will make it through. I'm sure with all of the years they've lived in the wild, they've been through storms before."

"That isn't the point!", Chelsea exclaimed, grabbing his arm in a vice grip. Two jeweled eyes met, and smoldered. "That Island was nothing before all of us. Everyone in town contributed, everyone brought it back to life. That foundation could be gone, completely destroyed, in less than twelve hours. That Island means next to everything to me. It's my home, and it's where I discovered what I was supposed to do in my life. It's where I found those great people sitting out there right now. It's where I found _you, _Vaughn. That place is so…special."

Despite his shock at Chelsea's outburst, Vaughn sighed, and closed his eyes. With no words making their way to his tongue, he settled for the next best response. Pulling Chelsea to him by the shoulder, Vaughn held her head to his chest, feeling her shudder and exhale as she leaned into him. Never one for physical closeness, Vaughn nearly pulled away a few times as a reflex, but managed to push away the urge. As the minutes passed, her shakes and assorted noises slowed down until they became nonexistent. They sat like that for a long time, neither caring to move, or daring to disturb the other.

Vaughn listened to her heartbeat, and could feel it through his vest. He had never been in such close proximity with someone else before, close enough to hear their inhales and exhales. It was strangely comforting, another unusual sensation to Vaughn.

Eventually, Chelsea sniffed, and coughed. "Um…Sorry, about that meltdown of mine you had to witness. Trust me, that doesn't happen often."

She tried to pull away, but Vaughn caught her by the arms again. He didn't want this to end, and that troubled him.

"Let's stay here for a while. Take a little bit longer break from the tension that's in the lobby."

Chelsea shrugged, rubbing her still slightly pink eyes. "Okay. Sounds good to me."

She flopped down on the bed, and slightly grimaced at the uncomfortable mattress. Vaughn gave her a half smile, before sitting down at the opposite end himself. Stretching his legs out, he kicked off his boots and crossed his arms behind his head.

"Thank you," he heard a small voice say from the other side of the bed. Sitting up for a second, Vaughn raised an eyebrow at her as if to say, _what are you talking about?_

"I…You…Well, you didn't have to do…what you did do. Am I making sense? You know what I mean," she waved him off. "It's like you knew exactly what to do."

Vaughn chuckled, shaking his head at her. "Yeah, I know what you mean. You're welcome. And I just did what I thought would be right to do."

"Well, you thought right then. That was really nice of you. Maybe you aren't such a jerk you tend to be all the time after all."

"Don't count on it," Vaughn grumbled, laying back down. He heard her laugh, and a fine dusting of rose colored his cheekbones as he smiled when she couldn't see.

It was quiet for a few moments, aside from a loud yawn from Chelsea's direction and some shuffling. Vaughn glanced over at her, and smirked at the sight of Mack, who had mysteriously disappeared until now, trying to get underneath the afghan Chelsea was still draped in. Her eyes crinkled in a smile as she kept blocking the way, and eventually he grudgingly settled for a spot on the outside of the blanket.

The old Chelsea was coming back, slowly but surely. Despite the old tear tracks that weren't quite faded from her cheeks.

Vaughn swung himself into a sitting position again, and shifted his hat. "I should get back to the lobby. See if there's been any weather changes, how long we have left on this boat." The ferry managed to absorb the angry waves quite well, so most of the passengers didn't feel it, but the rain and wind knocking against the ferry windows was just as loud, if not louder, than ever.

"Don't go. Not yet," Chelsea mumbled, and Vaughn turned around to see her eyes slit open, her limbs sprawled out and limp. "Stay here."

Skeptically, Vaughn raised a silver eyebrow. "Are you going to sleep? You seem tired."

"Aww, is Vaughn concerned about something? About a _person_? That would be a first."

He glared at her, frowning. Was she really that dull?

"Very funny. Maybe I'll leave after all." This seemed more like the regular bantering that had happened the most often on the Island. Vaughn couldn't decide if he preferred it this way or not. It was familiar, if anything.

"Nooo, no. I was just kidding. Please don't go. Stay here, lay down, take a nap. Goddess knows everyone could use one here. I'm surprised that more people hadn't nabbed rooms."

"I'm going to go and check on everyone in the lobby. See if there's been any new updates. I'll be back," he said, tugging his boots back on.

Chelsea frowned sleepily. "Okay. When you come back, don't tell me if there's been a change. I don't want to know. And you better come back."

"Yes, Mother," said Vaughn dryly, before exiting the room into the hallway. He walked back into the lobby, where the number had dropped significantly. People must have retired to the available rooms in either of the two hallways. It was understandable, as most of them had been up and in a frenzy since three a.m. The only ones left in the lobby were Taro, Mirabelle, Felicia, and Chen.

Vaughn trudged up to them, and greeted them with a tilt of his hat.

"Is Chelsea okay?", Mirabelle fretted. _Her motherly instincts must have kicked in, _Vaughn thought sourly. "We saw you lead her out of here, and she seemed upset. Not that anyone blames her, of course. It must have been very hard on her, being responsible for a great deal of the success on the Island. Poor thing…"

Vaughn just grunted, and looked away. "Have there been any new updates?", he asked Felicia.

"Not anything good, dear. We're about four hours from our safe house still, and we're lucky we got off that Island when we did. The winds are beginning to surpass one hundred miles per hour in speed, and according to the broadcasters, the amount of rain along with the growing waves will most likely result in flooding." Felicia sighed, and put a hand to her cheek in despair.

Vaughn nodded, but said nothing before tipping his hat at them again and walking away. He heard Mirabelle call to him, "You take care of Chelsea, Vaughn. I know that's where you're going now. So make sure she's coping alright with everything, or you'll hear from me!"

Vaughn rolled his eyes, glad she couldn't see his face. Opening the door of the resting room Chelsea resided in, he took in her still form and assumed she was asleep.

Grabbing a blanket from one of the dresser's drawers, Vaughn sat back down on the bed, repeating the process of kicking off his boots before he noticed two cerulean eyes watching him. "Yes?", he asked. "I thought you were already asleep."

"Halfway," she murmured. "I heard you come back in, though. Anything new?"

Vaughn hesitated, narrowing his eyes at her. "You told me you didn't want to know."

"Oh, yeah," Chelsea said, remembering. "I changed my mind, don't tell me. I'd rather be ignorant, in this case."

Vaughn chose not to reply, and laid back down where he was before, his feet by her head. He was staring out the window to his right, counting raindrops, when she said, "Turn yourself around."

Vaughn glanced at Chelsea. "What?"

"I said, turn yourself around. Put your head down here, and your feet down there, like I am. I swear, you weren't this dull when I first met you, cowboy…". Chelsea giggled drowsily.

"You're slap-happy. Go to bed," he retorted. She was just as quick with her response, saying, "Not until you do as I say."

Sighing, Vaughn turned himself around so that his face was even with hers, and she was grinning in satisfaction.

"Are you happy now?", Vaughn growled, rubbing his forehead.

"Yes, thank you. You're like my man-slave," she said, still watching him.

"That's just great," Vaughn muttered, giving her a half-hearted scowl. "Your man-slave."

Chelsea didn't reply out loud, but smiled and closed her eyes. Vaughn couldn't help but to study her face; she became a completely different person when her eyes were closed. It was interesting to him.

In a flash, they were open again, blue projecting out at him. "Thank you again. For everything," Chelsea said to him. She scooted a few inches closer to him, and he could feel the warmth radiating off of her. What was she doing?

"Like I said, it's nothing."

"But it is. You don't have any idea," she said. Chelsea's eyes had turned intense once more, and Vaughn was reluctant to meet her eyes for very long.

"I do," he said. Turning around, he hid the slightest blush from her, unwilling to show her the affect she could have. He didn't want to believe it himself.

"One more demand, man-slave. Turn towards me, I'd like to see your face."

"Why does it matter?", Vaughn slurred, battling a sudden onset of drowsiness.

"It doesn't, it's just a preference. Please?", Chelsea cajoled.

Vaughn turned back to Chelsea, as if he were a puppet, under the control of someone else. "This is the last favor I'm doing for you for a long time," he muttered. "You owe me now."

"Okay," Chelsea sighed, before closing her eyes for the final time. Within what seemed like seconds, she was out, her face relaxed.

Vaughn scooted back a few inches, and closed his own eyes before shifting to his stomach. He did abide to her wishes, though, and kept his face tilted in her direction.

Despite the confusion and uneasiness Vaughn drifted off to sleep faster than usual, his insomnia helped by the presence of someone he cared deeply for sleeping near him, whether or not he willingly accepted it. He even almost managed to forget about the devastation that lay in the hours ahead.

Almost.

**Author's Note: Hi readers! I'm glad you decided to check this fic out. The idea came to me after reading an article about the Hurricane Earl that's sweeping across the eastern coast of the US, currently. To anyone that has a possibility of being affected by the hurricane, I pray that you're safe, healthy, and with others. I'm not entirely sure how long this fic is going to be, but maybe five or so chapters. We'll see. Feedback is appreciated, and thanks for reading!**


	2. Safety

**Chapter 2 **

Vaughn was wide awake the second his back hit the hard wood floor with an audible thump. The next second, the ceiling tilted towards him, and he felt like he was about to fall off the floor, somehow. Scrabbling for a hold on something, he found one of the bed's legs, and held on as the boat wavered back into the opposite direction.

As quickly as it happened, the boat seemed to find a center of balance again, and Vaughn managed to lurch to his feet. Despite the protests of his equilibrium, he turned in all directions, looking for the girl who he had been sleeping beside just a few minutes ago.

Now that he thought about it, it's probably best that he had ended up on the floor. They might have had a situation, if anyone had happened to casually walk in…

Feeling his ears begin to burn, Vaughn sensed movement to the right of him, and watched a disoriented looking Chelsea rise, using the bed for support as he had.

"Why was I on the floor?", she asked groggily, still wiping her eyes of sleep. Mack reappeared with her, whining and begging to be cradled in her arms. As if to answer her question, the boat groaned creakily and tipped to the left slightly. A short shriek sounded from outside the room, and Vaughn had to hold onto the nearby cabinet to keep his balance. Mack darted underneath the bed and refused to come out.

"What's going on?", Chelsea asked, her baby face confused. Vaughn shrugged, and checked the room's only clock. It was two thirty, which meant they must have been sleeping for a startling five hours, give or take some.

"I don't know," he grunted, pulling his hat down. "We should probably go check it out. If we're on schedule, we should be reaching our safe house in the city in about an hour."

Chelsea nodded mutely, and left the room behind without a second glance behind her, assuming Vaughn would follow.

Vaughn rolled his eyes, but didn't prove her assumptions incorrect, and followed her out the door. Perhaps "slave" was a fitting term for him after all.

The ferry lobby had begun to fill up again with the islanders, whom were milling around aimlessly, babbling nervously. None of it stood out to Vaughn, though. His eyes were on Chelsea alone, as she weaved her way through the gapped crowd.

Eventually, the old man Taro came into view, and Chelsea jogged the rest of the way to him.

"Taro, have there been any updates on the Island? How far away are we from the city? Why is the boat rocking like this? Who-"

"Hold your danged horses! One question at a time, girl. And why don't you pay some attention fer' once and actually watch the…the idiot box," Taro snapped, hitting her in the leg with his stick. Chelsea jumped forward, glaring and him and rubbing the spot where she was hit. Vaughn scowled at him as well, disliking the rotten branch more than ever.

All the same, both Chelsea and Vaughn's eyes found the screen just as it was showing footage of somewhere being hit by the storm. Wind and rain pelted everything, and the clouds were settled so low it almost looked like fog. A never ending expanse of evergreens, green and full. Rich, thick soil. Branches and stones everywhere, entire trunks ripped from their life. The footage continued moving north, most likely from a helicopter sent out to check the conditions. A body of water came into view, circular and the most unusual shade of blue…

"The Goddess Pond," Chelsea realized quietly, her face losing some color. A horrible cracking noise came from the television speakers, and the Islanders watched on with horror as a large tree fell onto the church, caving the roof and one of the walls in. Exclamations and swears were heard from the helicopter pilot and co-pilot, followed by barked directions to turn the helicopter back. The islanders couldn't look away if they tried, not even after the regular news broadcasting returned once more.

Vaughn compared it to a city tragedy he'd witnessed before. It had been early morning, and he had been driving through one of the bigger cities in hopes of making a trade delivery at Forget-Me-Not-Valley. As he learned later while being interviewed as a witness, a truck driver had fallen asleep at the wheel, resulting in the large semi barreling across the freeway, taking out three cars in the process. The cement wall separating the freeway on the other side was the only thing that had stopped the catastrophe. Others fortunate enough to have avoided the semi truck pulled to the side and watched in horror as the ambulance medics and police arrived, and began pulling people from the ruins.

Though what the townspeople were seeing wasn't nearly as bad as watching a fatal crash, the same reaction still applied. They had just watched a building on the Island they knew as home be destroyed by a tree uprooted by the wind. What was happening on the rest of the Island?

A voice came on the boat's speaker system, strangely calm. "Those rescued from the Island of Happiness; We'd like to apologize for the turbulent movements that have been occurring, as the waves are still quite choppy, despite the distance from the Island. We advise you to try and stay in one place to minimize possible chances injury or illness. Our destination should be reached in the next half hour, if all goes well. Until then, remain safe."

Everyone seemed quieter after the voice had finished speaking, most likely thinking about the future of their Island. Would the damage be too great for them to ever go back? Would it be like time went backwards, how it was before Chelsea arrived on the island?

Seeing his aunt and cousin approach him, Vaughn shoved his hands and in pocket and made sure his hat was covering an adequate portion of his face.

"How was your little alone time with Chelsea, dearest cousin?", Julia asked as she sauntered up to him, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Vaughn rolled his eyes and scowled, the generic response for anything stupid Julia says.

"You really should adopt some new facial expressions, Vaughn. I think I've only ever seen what, three?"

"Now now, Julia. Leave him be," Mirabelle scolded, just now arriving. She was smiling, but Vaughn could see the tension in her face without having to ask. Not that he would, anyway. That would suggest that he was concerned.

Which he wasn't.

"One of the city's larger inns has been booked for everyone to stay at while the hurricane…" Mirabelle broke off, frowning, before starting up again. "Anyways, with everyone pitching in their two cents, we were able book four rooms, each with two double beds. I'm going around making the room arrangements now, so it's the time to tell me if there's anyone you'd prefer to stay with during our stay there."

The mischievous glint in Mirabelle's eyes made Vaughn want to bang his head into the wall. It's really no wonder where Julia inherited the same behavior, but he would have expected that Mirabelle would have matured past this a long time ago.

"No. I don't care," he spit out, beyond irritated now. Julia raised an eyebrow skeptically, and put a hand on her hip.

"So you're saying you'd be okay with rooming with Regis, Lanna, and Taro?", Julia asked cunningly.

Vaughn blew air out from his nose, ruffling the hair that hung below his Stetson. He said nothing else.

Julia laughed, and gave him a playful shove. Vaughn didn't budge.

"You wouldn't be able to room with them, anyways. They're not staying at the same motel as everyone else. Regis had said something about "being above staying in such a mediocre resort", and booked a more high class hotel for himself and Sabrina. Oh, and Lanna too. Apparently she knows someone in the city who can make room for herself and Denny. It's too bad for them, in my opinion. We're all gonna have so much fun together, staying in the inn!", Julia rambled cheerfully.

Vaughn didn't understand what she had to be enthusiastic about. He could already imagine how much everyone was going to get on his nerves…

"_So_ much fun," Vaughn seethed dryly. "So that's only sixteen people left."

"Guess so," Julia shrugged. "So, who's it going to be? Chelsea, I'm assuming? That's the only person I can think of who can stand your company…"

"Julia," Mirabelle scolded again, while Vaughn growled and shoved her away.

"I'm just kidding! Jeesh, just trying to lighten up this whole situation…", Julia pouted, crossing her arms across her chest.

Ignoring her daughter, Mirabelle scribbled names down on a yellow tinted piece of paper someone must have given her. "Dear, what if I put you in a room with Chelsea, Pierre, and Natalie? That's the best option I can see for you."

Vaughn bit back any rude remarks that were going to come from Mirabelle's offer, and made the logical choice. "Alright. That'll work…Thanks."

Mirabelle smiled at him, glad she'd managed to appease the most difficult resident on the ferry. "Great! Everyone's in a room, then. Hopefully, we won't have to stay there too long, but you never know."

Without another word, the people whom Vaughn might sometimes consider his family wandered off, lost in their own thoughts, worries, and hopes.

Not wanting to keep standing in the same place, Vaughn looked up through his lashes towards the gathering of people. Only looking for one person, really. That person seemed to be making rounds, talking to everyone, offering smiles, giving hugs and reassurances.

What was he jealous of? That he wasn't a part of those people, or that he couldn't be like her, even if he tried? What if she only liked those people who were naturally inclined to make people feel good, like herself?

The biggest question his mind created might have been, why did he care in the first place?

Vaughn walked to the edge of the gathering, not quite fitting in but no longer a voluntary outcast either. Chelsea saw him and walked over, wearing a sleepy smile.

"So I heard we're going to be rooming with Pierre and Nat. Should be interesting, if anything, right? Maybe Pierre will cook us amazing meals."

"Maybe," Vaughn said quietly, preoccupied in a maze of his own thoughts.

For the remainder of the ride, Vaughn watched the waves from a window. He had done the same a few hours ago, despite it feeling like days, instead.

He watched as the city came into view, the tallest skyscrapers and bridges becoming visible to the eye. The dock where the boat was to pull in came not long after, and Vaughn left the window to gather what little possessions he had.

Everyone felt it as the boat chugged to a halt, and everyone immediately dispersed to retrieve what little belongings they had taken with them. Chelsea came to stand by him with her small bag and Mack, who looked as though he had recovered from his ordeal enough to be coaxed out into the open.

"We have reached our destination on schedule. Passengers please be careful, as there seems to be moderate wind speeds and rain. Taxi cabs have been hailed for your utmost convenience, and we hope that you get back to your home after the storming has resided. It's been a pleasure," the voice droned, before cutting off with a static hiss.

People began to file out of the ferry through the entrance, while the crew held the doors open against the wind. They murmured words of good luck, but Vaughn couldn't help but to find them lacking sincerity. It was only their job to say so, he was sure.

The first step off the ferry and outside into the wind nearly knocked Chelsea, who was a few feet in front of Vaughn, backwards into him. He grabbed her shoulders, and she turned to give him a grateful smile.

"Let me see the dog," Vaughn shouted over the commotion of everyone reacting to the poor weather. "I have less to carry, and we could get to a cab faster that way."

Chelsea nodded, and handed the dog over to him before running to catch up with the rest of the Islanders who had gone on ahead. Nestling the canine in his vest, Vaughn managed to catch one of her thin wrists and held on. He was not about to lose her in the crowd. And although the crowd was made up of people they knew well, better safe than sorry.

Everyone was thoroughly soaked through and wind battered in a matter of minutes, but fortunately the taxis waiting for them had come through with the commitment. Vaughn heard Taro distinctly yell, "Everyone, everyone! In a cab with the group assigned to your for inn rooms! If we lose anybody, all of you are going to have to report to _me!_"

Vaughn saw Pierre and Natalie break through the crowd, and Chelsea waved them over hurriedly. Together, they ran for the last taxi in line and ducked inside, panting and shivering with cold and the adrenaline of the last few minutes. The first taxi signaled to the second, and soon enough all four were on their way through an unfamiliar city that nobody knew, with people just as mysterious.

Simultaneously, all four of the Islanders leaned back and exhaled in relief. Despite all of the odds, they were safe. Less than twenty four hours ago, they had been doing whatever it was their average day routine consisted of. Who would have known?

Vaughn retrieved Chelsea's dog from the inside of his vest, and set him down on the seat between them. The taxi driver seemed to give him a disapproving look from the mirror by his face, but Vaughn didn't care whether or not it bothered him. The driver was still getting paid, wasn't he?

He didn't notice his fingers were still locked around Chelsea's wrist until a few minutes into the ride.

"Sorry," he muttered, dropping them like they were scalding coals in a fire. Chelsea left her hand in the same position however, and only shrugged and looked up at Vaughn. ''S okay. I didn't mind."

Vaughn made himself look away from her gaze. He didn't want to think about what might happen if he hadn't done so.

Natalie and Pierre were uncharacteristically quiet throughout the whole ride, only whispering to each other occasionally and resting against each other. Unlike Julia and her bewildering relationship with Elliot, Natalie and Pierre were more reserved about their fondness for each other, as far as Vaughn could see. They didn't seem to feel the need to show it off for the public's eye.

The city flew by Vaughn's eyes in gray, monotonous segments. Being a tradesman for the majority of his working life, cities were nothing new to him. This one was no different from the ones he's visited in the past. Gray, loud, stinking, crowded, and ugly.

On the other hand, Chelsea seemed to be completely engrossed. She had the window seat, and her sun kissed face pressed against the glass like a child's who was visiting somewhere new for the first time. Vaughn knew Chelsea had been born, raised, and had been living up until today in the country, so he could see where this would be an interesting place to visit.

The ride to the Inn took about half an hour, and the majority of it was silent. Vaughn assumed it was the same in the other cars as well. There just wasn't much to say. Nothing anyone _wanted _to say, anyway. Everyone was dead tired, afraid, anxious, and cold. The sooner they got to their rooms, the better for them.

When the cab stopped in front of the Inn, Vaughn was shocked to see that it was an almost an exact replica of an Inn he had stayed at before at a place known as Mineral Town. He didn't expect it to have branches in other cities like this…

As other Islanders exited their own taxis, Vaughn wondered about the cost of everything they had used or will be using in the city. Turning to Chelsea, he asked, "Do you know who paid for all of this?"

Chelsea pet her dog's head for a moment before responding, but she didn't look up at him. "Taro, probably."

The words sounded false on her lips. A lie.

But Vaughn didn't push it any further at the moment than a discreet narrowing of his amethyst eyes and a sharp head turn. Following the group inside the Inn, Vaughn was met with the feeling of immediate warmth and dryness, a drastic change from outside.

Next to him, Chelsea sighed in content, and he overheard Natalie say loudly, "Finally! If they were actually going to make us wait outside until they were available, I would have demanded to talk with the manager…"

Vaughn caught sight of his aunt and cousin stepping off to the side with Elliot and Felicia, whom was holding a shiny silver key. As the two remaining groups of townspeople ahead of Vaughn, Chelsea, Pierre, and Natalie moved off to the side, Vaughn noticed they all had keys. _Room keys,_ he thought. Would they all be side by side?

When it was finally their group's turn up at the service desk, a key was handed promptly to them. No request for money or anything. Chelsea took the key from the hands of the desk man with a smile, and upon introducing herself, the man smiled back in delight, and shook her hand. He had red hair, freckles, and a friendly demeanor, from what Vaughn gathered about him.

As they moved off to the side where everyone else was waiting, Vaughn's mind whirred.

"Alright, alright, enough talkin', you youngsters! Listen up. All four of are rooms are next to each other, in the second hallway upstairs, room numbers 10-14. Tomorrow morning, we're to meet down here again at eight a.m. sharp. Our plans for the Island will be discussed. In the meantime, all of you…go get some sleep. It's…been a long day." Taro's authoritative tone had faltered by the end of his speech, and for the first time, Vaughn saw him as he had seen everyone else; tired, afraid, and miserable.

Everyone took that as the cue to go off and do whatever it was they wanted to do in the waning hours of the day. It was nearing four thirty already, and despite the five hours of sleep Chelsea and him had clocked, Vaughn felt the hazy cloak of exhaustion beginning to wrap around him like a blanket.

"Wanna go get something to eat?", Chelsea asked, stretching on the tips of her toes. Even then, she only just managed to reach Vaughn's nose in height. "I haven't eaten in twelve hours, give or take, and I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

Vaughn nodded his agreement, and beckoned upstairs. "Should probably drop off the pup, though. You barely managed to smuggle him inside."

Chelsea rolled her eyes, and shifted her hold on the said dog in her own jacket. "They would have let me in here with Mack in the open. Didn't you see the cat loitering around here earlier?"

"Nope," Vaughn countered, popping the P and smirking.

"Of course you didn't," Chelsea muttered, as they ascended the staircase that would lead them to the hallway with their rooms.

"Fourteen…fourteen", Chelsea mumbled to herself as they crossed the homey looking hallway. Pictures were on the walls of a young girl and boy, both with the same trademark red hair as the man downstairs. Perhaps they were his children.

"Ah, here it is. See, I know directions," Chelsea boasted, flipping her hair behind her shoulders. For the first time, Vaughn noticed she wasn't wearing her trademark red bandana.

"Where's your bandana?"

"Hmm?", she turned to him, frowning. "Oh. I forgot it…Back at the island. Not really a big deal."

Vaughn nodded, and followed her into the room as she pushed open the door. Natalie and Pierre must not have dropped off their belongings yet, as the room was empty of personal belongings. It was a decent room though, Vaughn had to admit. Two double beds, a dresser, a coffee table with a small television, a separate bathroom, and a kitchenette area to complete it. Dramatically, Chelsea dropped everything on the floor, including Mack who yelped, indignant. She flopped all over one of the double beds, stretching out and taking up the majority of the room. Vaughn rolled his eyes.

"Move over, or I'll sit on you," he threatened, watching as her expression turned to mock fear before she rolled over into a ball. Vaughn lay on his back, and his muscles sang for the comfortable mattress beneath him.

"This isn't bad at all. Much better bed than the one on the ferry," Chelsea commented, her arms hugging her knees to her chest. Her wide blue eyes stared at him, unblinking.

And then it hit him. Hard. He felt the urge, the want…To untangle her arms from her legs and take her face into his own hands, to feel her skin beneath his calloused palms. To see the sapphire jewel eyes meld with his own amethyst gemstones.

_What the hell was wrong with him? _

She was his friend, and anything beyond that was dangerous territory. Territory he would never, ever cross, no matter how bad he would ever want to.

_Because to lose her completely wouldn't be worth taking the risk, _he thought. This realization troubled him beyond what's normal for his range of emotions, but with his mastery of the poker face, no one could tell.

Chelsea rolled back to her side and got off the bed, before looking back at Vaughn, who was still laying on his back, staring at the ceiling and attempting to clamp down the warmness he could feel spreading all over his body. "Let's go get some food. I bet I could out-eat you right now. And I'm not even a man."

Half-smiling, Vaughn rose to his feet and followed Chelsea from the room, only solidifying his newest rank of "man slave" . But he couldn't help it.

For the most part, Vaughn was all control. Nothing could penetrate the impervious shield that separated Vaughn from the rest of the world. At least, that's how it had seemed for a long time. It was only when it came to this girl Chelsea, that he lost the fight over his mind, body, thoughts, and emotions. Somehow, in the last three years, an inexperienced, irritating, overly optimistic, girl had figured out how to get in. Why had it taken until now to realize this serious problem?

Vaughn pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. This was why he didn't have many friends. It would be much easier to stay by himself, with no other people messing up things.

And yet, he couldn't make himself fully believe that. Not anymore, at least.

**Author's Note: **I don't know about this chapter…It's kind of just ehh to me. But to be perfectly honest, I am dead tired right now, so I'm just going to wing it, hope I didn't produce a whole chapter of complete mind babble, and go to sleep. Before I go, though, I hope I'm making the characters…Well, in character. I'm attempting to really get into Vaughn's character for his POV, and I've always imagined him as someone who, unless their attention is truly interested by something, they wouldn't feel the need to focus on anything that didn't concern them or anything they were interested with (in this case, Chelsea). There wasn't as much Chelsea/Vaughn action in this chapter, but don't worry, there will definitely be more… Anyways, thanks for reading, and hope you liked it. Feedback is always appreciated!


	3. Heartbeat

**Chapter 3 **

Chelsea moaned in pleasure and closed her eyes, letting the taste of cheese pizza flood her taste buds. Vaughn looked up sharply from his own meal of grilled mushrooms, watching as the all but inebriated woman sitting opposite him roller her head back onto her shoulders and sighed.

"Vaughn," she said thickly. "This pizza…"

When she paused, he raised a thin eyebrow at her, waiting for her to continue. For a moment, she seemed like she wasn't going to say anything else. But she suddenly sat up, and brought her small fists down on the table, creating a loud bang. Smiling at him giddily, she said, "This pizza…Is fit for a _Goddess_, Vaughn. Really. Do you want some? Maybe if you have some, your perspective on life will be altered so dramatically that you won't be such a grump all the time."

"And a sense of humor, too," he said derisively. "What a catch you must be to the gentlemen, Chelsea."

"You know it," she dished back, her grin growing in proportions. Vaughn snorted, feeling as though it was an appropriate reaction, before taking a sip of the sangria they had ordered in a large pitcher. Seeing him, Chelsea reached for the pitcher herself, and Vaughn quickly calculate that it would be her third glass.

"Ah, ah, ah," he chided, sliding the pitcher away with his elbow before she could snatch it. "That's enough for now. We both know that you can't hold your alcohol."

Her smile morphed into an abrasive scowl, her eyes glittering dangerously. Vaughn merely smirked, having experienced far worse of her rage in the years they've known each other. One of the reasons he believed they got along was due to the fact that she wasn't one to back down when someone else got in her way. Which, coincidentally, Vaughn happened to do a lot.

"And who are you to tell me that? Are you my mother? No," she sneered, taking the pitcher while he was distracted. "Besides, there's hardly any spirits in here. But if you're so worried, Vaughn…I'll only pour half a glass." Her sneer had softened, and the soft smile that was present on her face nearly all the time was back. Vaughn watched as she honored her promise, and the dark red punch sloshed until it reached halfway.

"Good. Goddess knows everyone needs a repeat of your birthday last year," he commented offhandedly, smiling into his glass. He remembered it quite well, himself.

"H-Hey!," Chelsea stuttered, as her cheeks turned to flames. She bit her lip to contain a smile, and tried to glare at Vaughn hatefully. "Everyone's twenty-first is like that, okay…"

"Mine wasn't," he quipped, beginning to feel a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah, well…You don't like to have as much fun as I do. That much is obvious."

Her defensive demeanor made Vaughn chuckle, and Chelsea's face lit up like someone had flipped a switch on her back into the on position. He immediately stopped, confused, and she frowned, pouting.

"Really, Vaughn…In three years, I've seen you laugh, what…Maybe, five times? And those weren't even real laughs. They barely counted as chuckles," she mumbled to herself around a mouthful of pizza. Vaughn finished off his own meal, pushing the plate to the middle of their small table for two, and looked up around the dining area. More people had showed up as the dinner hour had officially started. With one sweep of the room, Vaughn saw Felicia, Mirabelle, Pierre, and Natalie already eating or waiting for their meals.

He noticed Chelsea looking around as well, eyes half-lidded and sleepy, but taking in everything. "You know, this is the first time I've been in an actual city," she remarked, looking back at Vaughn. "It's definitely…different. Everything seems so…alive, in a way. But different from how the country seems alive. Here, it's like the entire place is bursting with energy. _All_ the time. Everyone seems to be in a hurry, always late. But at the same time…Something about it is alluring," she seemed to decide, nodding her head.

Vaughn cleared his throat after a few seconds of silence, surprised by her again. He didn't know why he was surprised, or why he kept getting surprised. He would have thought he'd learned by now. This girl was full of them.

"That's…I've never heard a description like that before," Vaughn murmured, scratching the end of the table. "But everything you said makes sense, strangely enough. And that's coming from someone who isn't fond of cities."

He looked up from the table, meeting her eyes. They were wide with some feeling he couldn't decipher, and for a few moments he had no idea what she was going to do. Then she smiled again, and they melted back into liquefied sapphire jewels.

"I'm glad it made sense. It's just what came to me, looking at everything," she said, relieved. Picking up the nearly empty pitcher, Chelsea evened out the remaining punch into both of their glasses. Taking hers, she held it up to his.

"Cheers?"

"Cheers," Vaughn said, clinking his against hers. They both downed the rest of their drinks, and Chelsea set hers down with a sigh. Vaughn smirked, and rolled his shoulders.

"Mustache," he commented, amused. Puzzled, Chelsea just stared at him for a few seconds, before realizing. She wiped her mouth off with her sleeve, and turned pink at the cheekbones.

"Didn't stain, did it?"

"Naw, you got lucky," Vaughn said, pulling his hat down over his eyes. Chelsea laughed, and sat back in her chair. There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes, each absent in their thoughts. Julia and Elliot passed by and waved, holding hands. Chelsea waved back and smiled, of course, and Vaughn thought he caught her send a subtle wink in Julia's direction. To confirm it, he watched as Julia flushed pink and turned back forward, ruffled. They had gotten engaged about a season ago, and it still baffled Vaughn that Julia could get so flustered about Elliot. They were a strange couple, but if they were happy…

"When do you think we'll get more information on the storm?", Chelsea asked Vaughn thoughtfully. He shrugged, becoming solemn again at her question.

"Dunno."

Chelsea frowned at him. "Don't go back to the short, clipped responses now. It's me you're talking to."

Vaughn sighed, suddenly more tired than before, both mentally and physically. "Not even Taro was given much information about it. Maybe we'll go back tomorrow. Maybe it'll be longer than that."

"Or maybe never at all," she said quietly. "You don't think the damage will bad that bad, do you?" Her eyes searched Vaughn's face, looking for reassurance instead of giving it, for once.

He found himself wanting to lie. Lie about the grim prospects, and say that despite everything that was happening, everything would turn out fine, some how. But as a person, one of the few traits Vaughn valued in himself was his honesty.

"I don't know, Chelsea. I could be lying, if I said everything will be okay."

"Hmm," she said softly, turning thoughtful once more. "I hope you're wrong, in this case. I really do. But…thank you for telling me the truth. I really like that about you, Vaughn. There's no sugar coating anything with you. Even if it hurts."

"Um…You're welcome," Vaughn managed to get out, pulling his hat down so most of his face was shadowed. He had to get this under control, and soon. It's not like she hasn't complimented him before. She's Chelsea, and she does that sort of thing.

_So_, he asked himself, _why are you acting this way?_

"Well," Chelsea began. "I think I'm going to go up to our room. No late night city partying for me tonight, I don't think." She smiled at her attempt at a joke, and fished enough money out of the rucksack she always carried out for her meal. Vaughn did the same, and out of coincidence they happened to pass by Pierre and Natalie, also on their ways up to the room.

Pierre immediately engaged himself in a conversation about the Inn's menu with Chelsea, which Vaughn had no desire to include himself in. He lagged behind with Natalie, who initiated the conversation between them as the long hallway from before came into view.

"So," Natalie began, in her trademark harsh voice. "When're you gonna make the first move?"

Vaughn bristled, giving Natalie a fierce glare. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh please," Natalie sighed, rolling her eyes. "You don't need to play dumb with me. I know we're not really friends, but I know enough, being your neighbor and all. You've got it bad for her."

"You're seeing things," he growled, walking ahead of her at a faster pace. But Natalie only matched it, now grinning impishly.

"Am I? Your reaction doesn't back up your theory," she said, a teasing purr evident in her tone. Vaughn compared her to a malicious cat, having finally cornered her prey, the desired mouse.

And in this metaphor, Vaughn was unfortunately, the mouse.

"Back off. It isn't any of your business," Vaughn nearly snarled, his temper threatening to get the better of him. Trying to get a hold of himself, he exhaled deeply.

"It's very much my business! Chelsea's my friend. I want to see her happy," Natalie replied, eyes narrowed. It was really a miracle the two walking ahead hadn't been alerted to their argument.

"Hap-…What?", Vaughn asked, his eyes widening. Natalie had accomplished her goal; she had piqued his interest just enough, revealing what she was looking for in the first place.

"Hmm?", she asked, her expression turning mischievous. "Looks like we're here. It was nice talking to you, Vaughn. We should chat more often."

Vaughn realized what she had done only a few seconds too late. Fuming, he watched the three individuals walk into the room before he followed them. It only took that long to reconstruct his poker face, but on the inside he knew he would be raging for a good part of the night.

Inside, someone had turned the television on to the news station. The sound of the shower being started in the bathroom muffled some of the sound, and Chelsea being absent from the room, Vaughn inferred she was the one in there. Pierre and Natalie were sitting on the bed closest to the door, and their bags lay haphazardly on the ground beside it.

Vaughn walked to the bed on the other side of the room, kicking off his boots and removing his vest and gloves. Lowering himself onto the bed, Vaughn embraced for the second time the comfort of the mattress. He turned his attention onto the small television, feeling like that's all he's been doing in the last twenty four hours. Watching, waiting, and learning of more bad news. But that was life, so it seemed.

Nonetheless, he continued to watch the flickering screen. The two laying on the bed next to him were just as silent, and he gathered that they were probably thinking along the same lines as him.

After a few minutes of commercials, Vaughn was beginning to zone out when he heard a gasp from someone. Turning his gaze in that direction, Vaughn watched as similar expressions of heartache formed on the two faces, their eyes glued on the television.

Vaughn didn't want to look, but he knew he had to. Judging by their reactions alone, whatever they were seeing was not positive. Nonetheless, Vaughn forced his head to turn in the direction of the news broadcast.

Instead of the blonde woman, this time an older man was talking. According to him, the "eye wall" of the hurricane had reached the Island, and footage helicopters were no longer being permitted to gain footage because of the high risks that would be involved. He went on to explain that the eye wall was the most violent part of the hurricane, containing the strongest winds. Meteorologists were predicting that the storm was ranking a four on the Saffir - Simpson scale, at around one hundred and fifty miles per hour.

On a heavy note, the man stated that the helicopters would be sent out again as soon as it was declared safe enough for air travel, but in the mean time to keep updated and stay safe.

Vaughn looked back to Natalie and Pierre, unsure what to say, if anything at all. Natalie had her head in her hands, and was shaking it back and forth. Pierre was trying to comfort her, it seemed, but failing just so. It was strange, seeing Natalie change in such a short time from the tough, teasing girl he had been talking with not long before. It disturbed him, in a way.

Vaughn also noticed that the showering sound had stopped, and Chelsea was standing against the wall, hair still damp. Her arms were crossed against her chest, her face emotionless as she watched Pierre and Natalie.

Had she seen? Watched the broadcasting? She must have. But no longer was she the emotional wreck from earlier in the morning present. Chelsea seemed to have regained her own poker face, the one he was used to her wearing during hard times.

Vaughn wasn't sure why this bothered him.

Everyone else took turns showering after Chelsea, hoping to wash away the day's events with a good lathering. That didn't happen, but they could always wish. The hot water was enough for Vaughn, relaxing his persistently tense muscles.

Time barely surpassed eight o'clock when there was an unspoken decision to turn out the lights. The television was turned off as well, despite the chance that there could be updates at any time. Like with the decision to turn out the lights, it didn't need to be spoken out loud that nobody was eager to find out the damage done to the Island. Not yet.

Vaughn could hear a light snoring from across the room. Probably Pierre. Now that he actually tried to fall asleep, his mind wouldn't allow it to happen. Too many thoughts, conflicting and racing around inside his brain. Vaughn turned over on his side, irritated by the inconvenient insomnia, and was met by none other than the two cerulean eyes that belonged to the person who haunted his mind a frustratingly large percentage of the time.

Again with the surprises. They never seemed to end. But she didn't know this.

Without words, she moved closer to Vaughn, an echo of earlier. Vaughn for the control. He could feel her heartbeat, pulsing at a regular rhythm that he found himself counting them by the minute at the back of his mind.

Her head touched the top of his chest, and his own heart stuttered before speeding up against his will.

Sixty two.

"I didn't even ask. Do you mind?", she breathed almost silently, looking up at him.

"No," he answered just as quietly. He wasn't able to stop himself from adding the next part; his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. "You don't owe me, anymore."

He felt her smile into his chest as she curled up further into him.

Sixty.

"That's good," she murmured, closing her eyes. Vaughn shifted carefully, more onto his back, trying not to move Chelsea too much. One of her hands slipped onto his chest, and Vaughn found himself placing his own hand over it.

"You're very warm, you know," he barely heard her say, muffled by his shirt. His senses were on high alert, and every touch was magnified. Her words resounded through his body like satellite waves through the sky.

Fifty eight.

The insomnia was fading as Vaughn's mind began to slow, the thoughts no longer uncontrollable. He felt at ease, almost peaceful.

"Like a human heating pad," Chelsea picked up again, her voice only just carrying over the rain outside. "It's nice sleeping next to someone. Better than alone."

Fifty five.

Vaughn could feel her breath turning deeper. The edges of sleep were close by now, coming in from all directions. Gentle, and barely there.

Fifty two.

Both were asleep, relieved from the stress and anxiety that plagued them. Serene, if only for a few hours in each other's embraces.

**Author's Note: This chapter is shorter than the others…But strangely enough, it makes me giggly and nervous and wigojerohseohs. I hope you all like it, and that it wasn't TOO cheesy. Please do tell me, if it was. On second thought, tell me about the chapter, in general. I love hearing from you all, each and every reviewer. You make the story worth writing 3 Thank you for reading, and all feedback is appreciated. **


	4. Catharsis

**Chapter 4 **

Vaughn traced crooked lines and shapes across Chelsea's palm as he listened to Pierre and Natalie. He could make out the silhouettes of their backs, watching the sky outside in awe.

Despite the dread that Vaughn was sure everyone felt in turning to the broadcasting station, they had no choice. Curiosity about their home had won over the self-preserving ignorance. He had awakened to a newscaster reporting that the eye of the hurricane had reached the Island, resulting in a temporarily liberation from the miserable weather. The mild weather was expected to last an hour, at the most, before the other side of the storm was scheduled to hit. It was a few minutes past eight.

Even the town they had evacuated to was exhibiting some of the effects of the eye. It was no longer raining as it had all night long, and the winds were almost sinisterly calm. The sky was still light with the rising sun, but had a blue tint. Fleecy white clouds dotted the horizon, as if they were foreshadowing the return of the merciless elements.

Popping the knuckles of his hand not locked with Chelsea's, he watched the silhouettes of his two other room mates as they remarked on the shape of the clouds. Pierre was comparing them to foods, as far as he could tell. Apples, and bags of flour…

Suddenly, the silhouette on the left pushed away the silhouette on the left. He caught a glimpse of salmon hair swishing in the light of the sunrise.

"Do you always have food on your mind, Pierre? Is that all you ever think about?", Natalie's voice from the left said, slightly hurt but unwilling to show so.

"Of course not…It's not always the _only_ thing on my mind," Pierre's voice answered, sounding nervous.

"Oh really," Natalie's voice said dryly. "What do you mean by that?"

"I always think about you whenever I cook, Natalie," Pierre said brightly, his shadowed arm going up to his neck.

"Why?", Natalie asked, sounding bashful. Vaughn almost wanted to throw out a snide remark, but decided that would be rude and an invasion of what they thought was a private moment. He almost respected Pierre for having the guts to have said that.

"For one, you seem to enjoy my cooking so much. So I'm always trying to discover new dishes to please you. I hope it's been working," Pierre replied, sounding bashful himself.

Vaughn's interest in the conversation was beginning to turn to repulsion. But with the sleeping girl next to him tethered to him by the hand… He didn't dare to move. Not if it meant she could grasp onto just a few more minutes of sleep.

"So that's what am to you? A food taster? I guess it's not the worst job in the world. It could be worse,", Natalie said bitterly, turning from Pierre again. The sun had risen farther, and their figures were becoming more and more visible.

She turned to him again, and stepped closer. "C'mon. You don't ever think of me as anything more than just someone to feed?", she said, so quietly Vaughn barely heard. He wished he hadn't heard, but it was too late to stop listening now.

Pierre chuckled, and Vaughn imagined him flashing that stupid, huge grin he always put on. "W-Well, of course I think of you as more than that. You make great dinner conversation, too."

Natalie went silent, and Vaughn didn't dare to make a sound. He continued to breathe deeply, faking deep sleep. If they found out he was listening, it wouldn't go over well.

Pierre sighed, and took one of Natalie's hands. She looked like she was about to yank away from his touch, but allowed it, and faced him again.

"I thought you already knew…Natalie, you are the flame of the stove that has lit my heart! You are the spice in my curry, the sugar in my peanut brittle…I hope you get my point. I -"

Vaughn turned away the best he could as the pair collided, mostly on Natalie's part. She had cut him off with her lips, and as far as he could hear, there was no complaints on Pierre's part, either…

"You've traced the same random pattern of lines three times," the girl close to him unexpectedly whispered, causing Vaughn to start and nearly fall off the bed in a disorganized heap.

Chelsea snorted, which led to her having a laughing fit barely concealed by a pillow. Vaughn's face felt like he was about to catch fire.

"Get outta here," he growled, rolling her across the bed to the opposite side. She did nothing to stop the movement, only giggling harder into the pillow and halfway curling around it. It was really a mystery to him how Pierre and Natalie hadn't noticed. Even though they were at the other end of the room, Chelsea was extraordinarily terrible stifling her laughter. Vaughn aggressively

After a few minutes she managed to compose herself, and sat up with mussed hair and flushed cheeks. Feeling her eyes on him, he nodded towards the television that had been on in the background, before getting up off the bed to pull on his vest and belt over his clothes he'd slept in. It wasn't exactly hygienic, but Vaughn had been in far worse conditions before to care much.

"Watch the broadcast," he instructed. She was still watching him, and an uncomfortable feeling tickled at his skin. "The eye has reached the Island."

A moment of silence, and Vaughn glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She had listened and was watching the broadcast with wariness.

"So there's still more to come. This is like, a commercial break, metaphorically," she said dismally, curling back up with a pillow as the broadcast began to repeat itself. "Greaaaat."

"You could say that," said Vaughn darkly, at the same time as Natalie suddenly exclaimed, "I want to go outside! I'm so sick of being cooped up in this stupid Inn. I need some fresh air."

"Are you insane?", Vaughn asked Natalie coldly, flashing one of his fiercest glares. "That's exactly what they tell you _not_ to do."

Natalie rolled her eyes, and planted her fists on her hips, an argumentative glint in her eyes already forming. "Who's this they? This might be one of the last chances we'll have to get out of this building for a while, especially after the eye wall hits. I don't see how it's so dangerous. We'll come in once the weather begins getting worse again."

Vaughn and Natalie were locked in a hostile standoff, neither willing to break eye contact. Pierre looked to her nervously, and sighed. "I believe he may be right, Natalie…It wouldn't be the safest thing to do. Weather can be unpredictable."

His face reverted back to its usual cheerfulness. "We could go down to the kitchen instead! If you'd like that, I mean…I'm positive we'll be allowed to examine their kitchen, myself being a Gourmet and all..."

Natalie stared angrily at Vaughn for a few more seconds, until she nodded at Pierre in surrender. "Okay. okay... Let's go. I bet they'll have different city ingredients and tools you could use to make new food…"

Pierre beamed, and followed Natalie happily out of the room. "Exactly what I was thinking! It's a whole new opportunity to experiment with extravagant tools and spices and seasonings…"

Their voices died out as they walked down the hallway as Vaughn snorted contemptuously. Pierre seemed so simple to him. So easily satisfied in life by foods and recipes.

Chelsea had been abnormally silent throughout the entire exchange, but spoke up after silence had filled the room. "What _was_ that, Vaughn?"

She spit out his name like the taste of it was bad on her mouth.

"Why are you asking me?", he asked aloofly. His exchange with the fiery redhead had left him cross, and in no mood to explain his behavior.

"Well way to go. Our potential for having an amazing breakfast just walked out of the door with Pierre," she said in exasperation. "No wonder they've hardly been in this room while we've been here. Your attitude doesn't do wonders."

Mack must have jumped onto the bed during the argument, prompted from under the bed by the raises voices. She stroked his floppy ears lovingly, her actions contrasting with the tone of her voice and facial expression.

"My apologies for looking out for Natalie's safety. Goddess forbid anyone do that," Vaughn answered in the same tone, his back facing away from Chelsea as he moved to the window. The aforementioned girl and Pierre were visible outside now, standing on the sidewalk that bordered the Inn. Nobody had stopped them.

He heard her sigh, and the familiar ice that gripped her voice when she was beginning to get angry surfaced. "That isn't what I meant, moron. I get that. But you probably could have gone about saying it in a better way. Natalie, she's-"

"She's too damn stubborn for her own good," Vaughn finished with a swear, two of his knuckles popping on the hand that had linked them together during the night. "She wouldn't have listened if I hadn't said it that way. Hell, she still didn't listen. Both of them are outside now."

"I'm sure she would have. Natalie isn't stup- What?"

Vaughn felt her hips squeeze beside him, eager to see out the window for herself. A distant sensation burned him where she was touching him, but his mind was too far gone on other matters for it to be noticed.

"If no one stopped her, it must be okay. Like I was about to say, she isn't stupid enough to do something like that if it was dangerous. And Pierre-"

"That doesn't have anything to do with this. Maybe she isn't stupid, but she doesn't know how dangerous a hurricane like this is."

She huffed, glaring at their gleeful figures as they reached for the clear sky. "How would you know that? She's been in a storm-"

"You're taking serious risks going out into the eye, even if it might seem safe."

"Would you stop cutting me off?", Chelsea exploded, shoving Vaughn to the side roughly. He hardly stumbled, yet his back met with the wall behind him. He felt her short figure close to him again, sending off waves of anger and confusion. He felt his face contorting into a wild glare. The last thing he wanted to direct at her.

"Maybe if you would let me talk, I could what I'm trying to say through your thick skull," she said scathingly, her tone slicing Vaughn from the inside out.

"Fine," he snarled, walking into her and causing her to be the one who backs up. She nearly stumbled, and Vaughn had to smother the reaction to steady her by the arms. "Talk, Chelsea."

All of this was reminding him of the effect she had on him again, how only she could manage to throw him off with her words like this. It fed the fire, allowing the embers of frustration that he could physically feel in the pit of his stomach to ignite into angry flames that licked at his throat. She hadn't spoken a word.

"What, Chelsea? What were you trying to say?", Vaughn repeated, finally meeting her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, not in laughter this time. Her eyes glittered hatefully, and he was willing to bet that if she had the power, they would be burning two holes through his skull. He watched as she got close to him again, her face looking up to him in disregard of their obvious height difference.

"You want to know what I was going to say? No wonder you have no other friends. No wonder nobody likes to be around me whenever we're together. Goddess, I'm even beginning to question why..."

She broke off, and Vaughn stared back at her in disbelief as she choked on her words. "What?", he asked, his hands gripping her face now, forcing her to look at him. "What were you going to say?"

She yanked her head away from him, and refused to meet his eyes as a strange tremor passed through her body. "Why I even bother with you, Vaughn. Why I thought it was worth it. That's what I was going to say."

Stunned, Vaughn stood still. Hating his reaction, hating the weakness, hating himself, and hating her. Most of all, her. The flames turned to ice in his throat, freezing everything inside him.

It was like a glass wall had been placed between them. He watched from a distance, though they were only a foot apart in reality, as her face faltered. The mask was beginning to show cracks, turning to a crumbling mess.

"If that's how you feel," Vaughn said frigidly, "Then why don't you leave? Spare yourself the misfortune of my presence."

She didn't move.

"I'll make it easy for you," he said, walking past her towards the door. "Wait. Wait," Chelsea said, confused.

"Don't," she whispered, her voice breaking. She reached a hand out, but he was already turning the knob. "Don't... use that tone. Why aren't you yelling? Why...What-"

He was gone from the room before she could finish.

****

0o0o0o0o

Vaughn blew through the throng of people filing out of the Inn's doors, out into the dwindling amount of sunlight before it disappeared again. Just his luck. No one noticed him, he was just another person in the crowd, eager to leave the suffocating building behind for a few minutes.

He broke away from the crowd, in search of an escape from her. And he found it, at the back of the Inn. Secluded and neglected, a perfect place.

There were a few sparse trees planted in the sea of lifeless gray that made up the city, meaning to brighten the surroundings but just missing the mark. Vaughn sat against one, in the shadows of the branches and leaves it projected.

His time was limited. There were only so many minutes left, before he would have to go back inside for precautions. And after that, there would be no where to escape. To run.

What had he done? There was no reasoning behind whatever just happened between them. When he thought back, there was no trigger that he could think of. Why had they let it escalate so far?

Vaughn couldn't remember a time where she had looked so angry. And at him.

What had she meant to say to him, when the words had gotten caught in her throat? Vaughn replayed the sentence in his head like a broken tape. It had sounded false. Why?

He put up a weak fight against the capricious side of his mind, against the one deadly idea that would ruin everything. Because in truth, a part of him realized it a long time.

What if he was in love with this girl? Somehow, impossibly...

Vaughn's head fell into his hands, his hair eclipsing the fading sunlight from his view. He felt sick to his stomach.

He was in a war against his mind, the part of himself he used to always be able to count on. The synapses in his brain evidence at him in rapid fire. Memories, forgotten touches, confined emotions. And the whammy.

_What if somehow, she was in love with him too?_

**Author's Note: I know. I KNOW. Such a long time without an update. I fail at life. School and sports and general busyness have swallowed my free time, and it makes me sad that I haven't had a chance to write for this as much. Please bear with me, though! This chapter...huihgiehgiem I don't like it much, personally. But I swear, I'm going somewhere with it. Hopefully you won't think it's so bad it should be egged or something. I'd like to say to all of my reviewers and anonymous readers...THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH! Quite seriously, all of you make me feel warm and fuzzy. Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading, and feedback is very appreciated. **


	5. Critic

**Chapter 5 **

"_Her? In love? With you, of all people? What a joke." _

Time's concept had been long lost on Vaughn as he sat in the lobby alone, listening as rolling waves of thunder stampeded over the area. The eye had passed, inevitably, and the bad weather had reappeared. He coughed, a scratchy sound, and his mood was further soured at the prospect that he could be coming down with something. Surprisingly, he had been still outside when the storm hit, catching him off guard. He had gotten back inside pretty quickly, but no without receiving a thorough soaking firsthand.

"_If you really believed that foolish lie, that you loved her, you'd be actually doing something worth while to find her, wouldn't you? _

Vaughn shifted in his seat to hide the involuntary blanch he felt shiver through his body, disturbed. Bitterly, he remembered something he had once heard someone say to him a long time ago:

"You are your own worst critic."

Never before now had that seemed so true to him. Of course he blamed himself. Of course he was the reason nobody had seen Chelsea since the early morning, since before their fight. Of course he was why the Inn's employees were so worked up, rushing around on a search for the thought to be missing farmer.

Almost immediately after ducking inside from the unpromising storm outside, Vaughn had nearly been startled out of his wit by a loud, blaring alarm. Feeling hot at the cheeks, he had been glancing around to make sure no one had seen his reaction, when he noticed others around him had reacted the same way. He had drifted through the room until he found Mirabelle, with her hands clamped tightly over her ears. Julia wasn't far away with Elliot, whom also had his hands over his own red ears. He noticed Julia holding onto him tightly, and concluded the reason for his flushed face on his own.

"It's most likely one of the city's storm alarms," Vaughn said loudly over the screeching device. "Used to alert the townspeople to get somewhere safe, I'm sure."

Others around him, whom he hadn't noticed had been listening until that moment, nodded in understanding. Vaughn scanned the scattering of people in the room, frowning, as his mind drifted to a different issue digging at his mind.

His revelations about a certain girl with the bluest eyes he had ever seen lingered clingingly around his conscious, and he was apprehensive to find said girl for that reason. Vaughn couldn't even remember why they had gotten so angry at each other in the first place, to be honest.

Pierre and Natalie had approached him as the minutes passed, and he couldn't help but to send a scathing look towards the redhead. She seemed to ignore it however; both Natalie and Pierre's expression had been somewhat bothered.

"We haven't seen Chelsea since…Well, earlier. We just alerted the Inn's owner, and he's sent some of his workers out to take attendance of everyone in the building," Natalie had informed him, her voice surprisingly gentle.

In the end, there was really not a person to blame but himself. And that's what he kept telling himself, as the rain increased its hardy tempo on the roof above. Because they still had not located her.

The part of his mind that learned from his previous mistakes was the most vicious, most cold-hearted. It remembered everything, and for this reason dealt out the most crushing blows on his weighted psyche.

"_Still, you sit here, waiting for her to appear out of thin air and fall into your arms, everything forgiven and right and fixed by magic. Who are you trying to kid, lover boy?" _

Vaughn popped his jaw, and untied the white bandana around his neck, worrying its edges off excess rainwater. Stubbornly, he kicked his feet onto the circular coffee table in front of him, and watched out of the corner of his eye as his cousin approached him.

Julia sat down at her customary chair across from him, but unlike him, her emotions were clearly presented to everyone who simply bothered to glance at her face. The tension lines pinched around her eyes told of her worry for her best friend, the downward curve of her lips of her puzzlement concerning the situation. What Vaughn called her Carolina Blue eyes were clouded over with something else Vaughn had less practice of identifying. If he were to guess, however, it would be similar to the feeling one gets when they are close to deciphering a problem that had been eluding them for a long time.

"Vaughn," she began quietly, staring at the white crescents in her fingernails. Her refusal to meet his eyes made Vaughn sit up straighter and place his boots back on the ground. Julia was a people person, and usually had no problem at all looking people in the eyes when she spoke to them. A lot of the time, it unnerved Vaughn, perhaps because he couldn't easily meet anyone's eyes for longer than a few seconds.

"Spit it out," he ground out when she was silent for several more seconds. She jumped a little, but her eyes were still impossibly focused on her hands.

"They've been talking about sending out a search, or something, " she mumbled, the words barely carrying out to him.

"Who's 'they'?" Vaughn asked, a bad feeling blooming in his chest. It was similar to the first day, when he hadn't known the wherabouts of Chelsea then, either.

"Th…The, um…police." The words spilled from her mouth like a dam had been opened, almost as if she hadn't meant for them to come out all at once.

For a few moments, Vaughn was convinced she was kidding. Why were the police getting involved in what to them seemed most likely a trivial and unimportant issue?

"Oh," he simply replied. "I see."

Covertly, Vaughn's shoulders felt a little lighter at Julia's news. The police knew what they were doing; surely, a search and rescue mission wasn't too difficult.

His brief comfort didn't last long.

"I wasn't finished," Julia whispered, her face now facing away from Vaughn completely. She had tucked her legs up onto the chair, and her posture was extremely rigid.

"They…The police…They won't send anyone out until after the storm. Until after it's over and it's been deemed safe." Her voice broke on the last word, and Julia buried her face into her bare knees.

It took a few minutes for Vaughn to digest what the intentions behind her words were. Until the hurricane had resided, Chelsea would be out there. Alone, her against the elements, which had no mercy on humans.

They would be lucky to find her remains.

"God _damn it_!" Vaughn swore suddenly, soaring to his feet. He kicked the peg of his chair roughly, before turning back around and seeing a few assorted faces staring blankly at him from across the room.

"What the hell are you all looking at?", Vaughn exploded, his cutting tone daring anyone to toss back a snide remark or sneering retort. No one did, just continued to stare in shock. A baby began to cry far across the lobby, and the familiar sounds of a mother hushing it made its way to Vaughn's keen ears.

"Vaughn," Julia whimpered from behind him, as a hesitant hand wrapped around his lower bicep. He jerked away, and heard her take a step back. He couldn't deal with the comforting touch, no matter how much he privately wanted it.

Scenarios were hitting Vaughn over and over again, always that one sectioned off area of his mind that disturbed him. Visions of Chelsea shivering uncontrollably in the cold, the wind slicing into her petite form. Chelsea trying desperately to find shelter, but failing. Chelsea being found beneath a cracked tree, her body broken beyond repair.

Her never being seen again. The police left scratching their heads in remorseful confusion, sending out congruent looks of pity to him when they regretfully informed him that she was nowhere to be found. Simply disappeared, in such a terrible way, too. Such a promising lifetime, snuffed out far too early.

"_All of this, because you left her when she needed you the most." _

All of a sudden, something snapped in Vaughn. An idea seemed to come floating out of nowhere, and he grabbed onto it eagerly. Why hadn't he thought of it before?

Filled with abrupt calm, Vaughn glanced back at Julia. She was watching him with wide eyes, and she only tightened her grip on him when he met her eyes unwaveringly.

"No, no, no," she whispered, her eyes growing unimaginably bigger as she realized his plans. He was at a certain disadvantage, having one of the few people who knew him well nearby as his infallible plan was conceived.

"It's too risky. You're crazy, to even begin to think you can pull this -"

She stopped, spluttering under the shock of her realization. Her hand turned hard, and she uncharacteristically smacked him on the arm. Vaughn's expression flipped, and he yanked his arm out from her grip again.

"I'm going out after her," he grunted, stepping past her so quickly Julia barely noticed. Adrenaline began pumping though his limbs, a rare sensation for Vaughn, as he coasted over to the main doors of the Inn. A steady murmuring picked up in the room as those present for his spectacle realized with varying degrees of awareness what was happening.

"Vaughn!", Julia screamed from somewhere behind his back, and Vaughn knew his already crumbling cover was gone. He reached the door's and nearly chuckled at the whoever's thoughtless idea it was to let the doors remained unlocked.

The heavy door slammed shut just as he heard Julia's shrill voice shriek, "Somebody! Oh, please, somebody help! My cousin - !"

The deafening winds and ferocious rains blocked out everything else. Vaughn's adrenaline raged onward as he began running, his senses extending to what seemed like the entire city.

"Chelsea?" he bellowed, his voice halfway swallowed in the angry gusts of hurricane weather. As no reply sounded, Vaughn doubted himself for the shortest moment. What in the hell had he been _thinking? _

"_Go back. You're only putting yourself into danger out here. After all, isn't that all you care about? Yourself?" _

His dubiousness was banished as his mind envisioned Chelsea once more, struggling under the waves of a flooded street, blood running from her head, a hacking cough erupting from her throat.

"Chelsea!", he yelled louder than before, dull panic and hopelessness beginning to gather in his extremeties. He could no longer feel his toes, buried deep in his cowboy boots, and his fingers were beginning to tingle unpleasantly.

"Where the hell could that stupid, stupid girl be?", he begged the sky to know, leaning into the wind as he circled the area. He dodged branches, rocks, even fence posts, as the wind howled its protest at him.

"Please, where are you?" he muttered, coming to an area of flooded grass, nearly a foot deep with the combined water of the days of storms.

"CHELSEA?", he roared, glancing around him as desperation added itself to the mix. He looked around, looked for her annoying, clashing orange and yellow outfit, her garish red boots. Those eyes, always those eyes.

A faraway noise met Vaughn's ears, and he whipped around in that direction, scanning the surroundings. It hadn't sounded like it belonged to a woman, but Vaughn trudged after it nonetheless. He had nothing else to cling to, and this was the smallest hope he could manage to find.

His mind was blank of all thoughts not concerning to his own survival, as well as Chelsea's. Never before had Vaughn experienced such focus in his life.

Vaughn's clothes were utterly soaked, his bones having turned to shards of cutting ice. His limbs wouldn't stop trembling, a combonation of the adrenaline and the exertion; his fingernails were turning a mottled blue. His hair dripped uselessly in his eyes, his boots were slipping on the saturated grass, and his head felt like someone had taken a bat to it. He had lost track of where he was, where he had been, and even what direction he was going in.

The only thing he could do was run in the direction he thought the noise had come from. And Vaughn had never ran so fast in his life. He dashed blindly in the direction of the noise, narrowly missing an uprooted tree in the process.

Another noise broke him from his stupor, this one stronger than the last. It was achingly familiar, so familiar he nearly fell to his knees upon hearing it. The voice he had been looking to hear, for what seemed like days.

"Chelsea? Chelsea?", he called again, that name the only one that was able to form on his chapped lips. Again and again his lips repeated her name, so practiced in the way it sounded.

"Vaughn!" someone called back weakly, and finally Vaughn saw them. The red boots, spattered in mud and grass, but as red as ever. He looked up from them in direction, and there she was. On her knees, a bloody arm and a funny looking shoulder. But she was alive, that much he could see in how she stared back at him.

Vaughn lurched forward to cover the minor distance between her and him. He finally found them, those sapphire eyes, seeming nearly lifeless with exhaustion. They barely glittered with the usual livelihood he was used to.

And then it was like someone had flipped a switch in her, the way they changed so quickly from that, to shining with a terrible fear.

"No!" she screeched, holding the dripping, red arm out for Vaughn to stop. But he was too far gone to the adrenaline to question her actions, as he was so close, only a few more meters before he had gotten to her…

But he never got there. Vaughn came to a dead stop as he felt himself devy gravity and leave the ground. He felt his skull slam first into the debris littered ground, the noise resounding through the rest of his body. A jarring sensation, and the air being squeezed from him as something heavy crashed on top of him. A sharp pain somewhere, but where, he couldn't tell anymore.

Something liquid began running into his hazy eyes, before his tunnel vision disappeared completely, swirling away. Everything became dark, without color. The only color he wanted to look at for the rest of his life wasn't there.

A broken wail was the last thing he heard before his hearing was gone, too.

**Author's Note: I hope this chapter didn't seem too dark, dramatic, confusing, or most of all, too stupid. I actually had a lot of fun writing it, once I really got into it. I know I'm going to become pretty hated because of the ending…but it's the kind of hate that will make me feel good, hopefully! Isn't that a contradictory statement, if you've ever heard one. What did you think about Vaughn's character? Too out of character, or just right? Please tell me in a review! I hope you enjoyed it, nonetheless, and please stay tuned! Feedback is appreciated, and thank you to all who have stayed with me all this time, as well as any new readers! I appreciate all of you so, so much. **


	6. Agony

**Chapter 6 **

"_He's been out for a while…"_

"_Oh, really? I wonder why, Bob? You _idiot_, I didn't say to tackle him to the damn ground."_

"_Hey, it's not like I had a choice. He wasn't responding to our orders." _

"_That doesn't matter. Guy's probably got a concussion now. At least we got him back here before that storm made matters worse. 'Ya hear about why he went out in the first place?"_

"_That girl, wasn't it? Where is she?" _

"_Gray took her back before us. She was hysterical, you know." _

"_Poor girl." _

"_Hey…Hey, Kurt. I think he's coming back." _

"_Yeah? Hey, you alright there, mister?" _

"_This guy's not looking too good…"_

"_Ah, hell…Turn him on his side, Bob." _

"_What?" _

"_Just do it!" _

Vaughn was roughly turned onto his right side as he became violently sick on the floor, vaguely aware of two pairs of feet jumping away from his mess. Having eaten little in the past hours, however, his stomach stopped overflowing soon enough, leaving him with a bad case of the dry heaves.

When those resided, Vaughn and rolled onto his back once more, and coughed. He tried to lay his head on the ground gingerly, but winced, despite his efforts. One of the feet disappeared, and he heard a far away sounding voice call for cleaning supplies.

"What," Vaughn managed to slur, as the men who had stayed appeared, towering above him with a blank expression on his tanned face. He couldn't make out their faces in detail, however; his vision was slightly blurred, and no matter how hard he squinted, it remained that way.

Where was he? He couldn't tell. The carpet was soft beneath him, so he thought he might be inside a building. What building?

It was then Vaughn noticed the pain that was spread everywhere along his body. Other places were worse than others, but as a whole it felt as though he were a living, breathing bruise. Nothing compared to how his head felt, though.

Having been working with animals for such a long time, Vaughn had been prone to the occasional injury from time to time. Cuts and bruises, sprained joints. He had even received a busted knee cap years ago, product of an angered horse. But he could easily say that none of those compared to how badly his head _hurt. _It felt as though a truck had ridden over his skull with spiked tires.

"Where'she…Chels…" Vaughn tried to ask, but the words got jumbled in his mouth on the way from his brain. He gave up at the blank looks the remaining man sent him, discouraged and worried.

Vaughn was beginning to grow light-headed when the man finally spoke up. The words didn't flow like they should have, though. They sounded garbled, and like they were spilling too fast for his mind to comprehend. The man had what looked like a questioning expression. When Vaughn didn't respond, he frowned with a new tension on his face before he called for someone as well. A doctor?

Little blue dots flitted across his vision, dancing just out of reach. An absurd smile formed on his face, though Vaughn couldn't remember why as the dots grew bigger and bigger. The color seemed so familiar…

His smile suddenly fell, morphing into a pained grimace as a soaring spike of pain rammed into his skull. A strained, throaty groan escaped past his bloody lips, and the dancing blue dots shone white. They were taking over his vision completely now, shielding everything else away.

The last remnants of vision showed blue again, different from the shade that previously balleted across his eyes. This was a lighter, softer tint. _Carolina blue_, something whispered to him. Four orbs staring back at him, shining with something bad. He couldn't figure out what, just bad. He didn't like it. What was _it? _

He closed his eyes, and let his consciousness float back away to somewhere nice, where things didn't hurt and there was nothing to be aware of. Just nothingness.

**0o0o0o0o**

Vaughn waded between the boundaries of consciousness and unconsciousness, all the while dreaming of her. Could it even be considered dreaming, in the realm of half-awareness he was in? Whatever it really was, Chelsea was in each one. Running around in bare feet, laughing. Chasing after her horse, swearing like a sailor when it outsmarted her every time. Sitting at the dock, in the middle of the forest, a serene smile on her face. Chelsea giving him a playful smack, looking him straight in the eyes in that way she always did. Sitting on the boat with red eyes and a broken heart. Chelsea touching his chest, igniting a fire yet not knowing it. Her sapphire eyes, boring into his as she kneeled soaking wet in the violent rain and wind.

Both the physical and mental agony that writhed inside of his head didn't cease, no matter how far he delved into unawareness. A few times he felt his arm being touched gently. It, too, felt distant and faraway, like he was feeling it through someone else.

It was a dull surprise to Vaughn when his body suddenly stirred awake, the smell of ammonia flooding his nose. Smelling salts, most likely.

His eyes snapped open, and Vaughn was met by a pair of dark eyes staring into his worriedly. Before he could say anything or even move, the man was taking his pulse, checking his head, and probing around everywhere.

"Glad to see you've awoken, Mr. Vaults," the man said, sounding relieved. He pulled a light from his pocket and shone it in his eyes. The concentrated light added to his painful headache, causing Vaughn to make a noise of irritation and push it away.

"That smarts like hell," he muttered hoarsely.

The man made an apologetic "ah" sound, and replaced it in his medical bag. "I'm Doctor Trent," he said, meeting Vaughn's eyes again. "I've been to the Island many times before, so you may already know me."

Vaughn tried to nod, but stopped as the throbbing rhythm increased in his skull. Doctor Trent seemed to have noticed, for his expression reverted back to concern.

"Normally, with a patient whom I suspect has gotten a concussion, we perform an examination of the nervous system. For example, testing balance, coordination of movements, and the body's reflexes. Do you think you would be able to stand on your own?"

Without answering, Vaughn sat up straight and slid out of the bed he had been in, looking to get back lost pride. As he got to his feet, however, a bout of dizziness overcame Vaughn, and he nearly thought he was about to lose his balance when the doctor's hand shot out to balance him. Vaughn's ears burned with humiliation at the look of empathy on the man's face.

"For now, I think it would be best…For you to remain on bed rest. I'm afraid that you most likely have a mild to moderate concussion. From what I heard, you took a pretty nasty fall."

A peculiar expression crossed his face, one Vaughn couldn't identify clearly.

"In order to treat this, you're going to have to make sure to get a lot of rest. Under a doctor's orders, no strenuous work either for the next two weeks. Depending on how fast you heal, that time period may change."

Doctor Trent pulled a bottle out from his bag, and set it down on the beside table next to Vaughn's resting spot on the bed. "This is one of the city's most often used pain medications, and judging from the pain you seem to be in, I'm sure you'll be grateful for it. Just make sure to take no more than two tablets a day, and only when the pain is particularly bad."

"Right," Vaughn mumbled, looking down at his hands as he reclined back on the bed. He found himself wishing Doctor Trent would leave.

The doctor seemed to realize this; packing up his bag, he turned to Vaughn once more. "If anything gets worse, or if there's no improvement in two weeks time, please send someone to get me in the city. I've already talked to your aunt, Mirabelle, and her daughter. They've promised to do the same."

"Wait." The word fell sloppily from Vaughn's mouth, as Doctor Trent opened the door to the exit. "Where is Chelsea? S'alright?"

To Vaughn's own personal surprise, the doctor's usually austere face softened into almost a knowing smile. "Yes, she's alright. I treated her before you came in. A few gashes, a dislocated, and some exhaustion, but other than that, she's just fine. All fixed up. She was asking for you quite a lot, though. Very anxious. Shall I send her the okay to visit?"

The man's eyes twinkled good-naturedly, and Vaughn was flustered enough to reply with a stuttered "yes". The man nodded, smiled, and bid Vaughn a cheerful goodbye.

Vaughn set his head back gently on the pillows that had thoughtfully been propped on behind him, realizing that he was indeed on the bed back in the room he had shared with Chelsea, Pierre, and Natalie.

Vaughn had his eyes and was lethargically listening to the pulse his head seemed to have developed when he detected the sound of the door opening. Prying his eyes open, his heart skipped a beat when Chelsea tiptoed inside. He willed his heart to resume its beating, and with a erratic _pitpitapat_, it shuddered back into working order.

His hazy eyes cleared a bit as Vaughn took her in, scanning for injuries, illnesses, anything. The shoulder that had been dislocated was held apart from her body, and there were small cuts and bruises on her face. The coat she was wearing hid any other ailments from him. He looked to her eyes, last of all, locking them in with his own. They were the last checkpoint, the last indicator of if she was really okay.

They were shining with tears, a few escaping the reservoir that held them all in. He watched as her knees buckled and she stumbled over to him, rough sobs breaking free from her chest.

"Oh Goddess," she choked, tears running openly down her cheeks. "Vaughn. Oh, Vaughn," she moaned, crawling onto the bed and into his lap. He held her by her shaking arms, afraid she might actually fall apart if he didn't.

"I'm so sorry. This is all my fault," she sobbed, her head bowed down on his chest. "I shouldn't have started that fight. I shouldn't have yelled. You wouldn't have gone outside, and I - I… I went out there, to look for you. But then , the eye…It was gone. I'm so sorry. You're so hurt. Because of me." Her words had become unintelligible by the end, turned into wracking sobs. He rubbed her unhurt shoulder comfortingly, wishing that she would just stop, stop, stop. Her tears were melting away the wall, the poker face. In a way completely different from physical agony, he hurt like hell. It burned his throat, and irritated his eyes.

"And you still came out after me. You risked your life, and found me. You're by fat the _stupidest _man I'll ever know. If you hadn't come back…If you hadn't found me…". Her crying hitched again, and Vaughn pulled her onto his chest, holding her to him.

" S'okay…It's okay," he muttered, shifting her position subtly on his lap so she wasn't on a particularly painful spot. "I'm okay. You're okay. That's all that really counts, right?"

"No," she moaned miserably, clutching his shirt in a vice grip. "Not at all."

They sat there together, him comforting her while she cried over him, in almost a lover's embrace. Neither seemed to notice, too immersed in one another. Nobody else existed, and time had stopped once again.

Eventually, Chelsea's tears dried and ran out, until the couple were left silent in their embrace, aside from the occasional shudder or sniffle. Evidence of what had gone on, however, was still present in her red eyes and streaked cheeks, as well as Vaughn's soaked t-shirt. Her face was still halfway pressed into him, so he felt her barely there kiss on his chest. His hand, having found its way to her hair in the exchange, tangled its fingers in it.

"How bad is it?" Chelsea whispered, one eye staring into his eyes.

"Not that bad," Vaughn lied easily, never breaking eye contact.

"The truth?" she asked again, staring into space. Vaughn sighed through his nose before replying.

"Pretty bad," he replied. "I'll deal with it."

"I'm sorry," she said again, stray tears leaking from the corners of her anguished eyes.

"Don't," he said, closing his eyes. "Don't cry. Please."

He felt her nod, and relaxed visibly. He shifted again minutely, and coughed.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked suddenly, sitting halfway up on him. Distressed, she began to get up.

"No, no," Vaughn said quickly, pulling her back down again. "Don't move."

Hesitantly and carefully, Chelsea resumed her positioning on his lap.

"I don't remember much of what happened after I found you," he said after a long pause. Vaughn looped a strand of her hair around his right pointer finger, thoughtful.

Chelsea was silent for a few moments as well, remembering, before she said something. "Three of the hotel's workers had been sent out …after me, and you. They were behind you, and that's why I screamed…didn't know who they were, at the time. But one of them tackled you, and…And," she paused, inevitably having the memory recalled by the explanation and fighting back the tears.

"And the bigger one, Bob, tackled you. He thought you were a danger to me, was what they said later. Only, he wasn't 'posed to…It was freaking terrible to watch, Vaughn," she said, her voice hitching at the end.

"Your head meeting the ground made the worst sound…I thought you were dead on contact. And then he fell on the rest of you. And your head started bleeding, and you didn't get up, and one of the other guys took me back to the Inn before you," she finished, bordering on the verge of hysteria.

Vaughn resumed his pose of earlier, holding her to his chest and shushing her until she had calmed back down again.

"Don't ever do that again," Chelsea muttered, wiping tears away angrily. Vaughn chuckled huskily, despite the stabs of pain it brought him. He halfway grimaced, hoping she hadn't noticed.

"Do what?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Scare me so bad, you stupid man," Chelsea murmured, watching his face closely.

"Same goes for you then," he countered, raising an eyebrow. This action pained as well, and Vaughn vowed to stop moving his face and head area all together.

"You're in pain," she stated miserably, ignoring Vaughn's previous statement.

"I said I'd deal with it," Vaughn grunted, as a particularly cruel wave of agony shot again through his head. The periods in between them were getting to be shorter. Vaughn entertained the notion of trying out one of the pills. He normally wasn't one for medicine in general, but this could be an exception.

"Can you hand me that bottle on the stand over there?" Vaughn asked, feeling like a sissy all the way through. Chelsea slid off his lap and padded over to the table, and picked up the bottle. Reading it, she frowned, but brought it over to him nonetheless.

"Thanks," he said quietly, before popping one of the small, white pills dry. Chelsea remained standing awkwardly off to the side, looking down at her feet.

"Should I go? Resting would probably be the best, for your head. I doubt my talking and being here is helping - "

"What will help me, is you staying here. With me," Vaughn simply said, laying down sideways on the bed. Within seconds, her presence had filled the spot next to him, and he wanted to smirk.

"How are your injuries?" Vaughn inquired, worried she might be hiding her pain from him.

"Not too bad. My shoulder was relocated by Dr. Trent when I first got back. Everything else is minor," Chelsea whispered.

"How long was I out for?" Vaughn asked quietly, watching her face intently. "It hasn't been years or something, has it?"

Chelsea giggled, and shook her head. "It's been a few hours. Lunch was about an hour ago," she replied.

Vaughn nodded, and winced again. Until now, he hadn't realized how often the head and face were used to portray communication.

"Think I should just stop moving my head," Vaughn muttered, his eyes slitted.

Out of nowhere, Chelsea sat up behind Vaughn, as he remained laying down. Her fluttering hands came towards his temples, and he braced for the hurt it would bring with her touch.

As her fingertips began massaging his temples, Vaughn relaxed, stunned. To his surprise, and admitted satisfaction, her actions relieved some of the most cutting edges of the headache.

He let out an involuntary sound of gratification, and he watched her draw away, an expression of dismay on her lovely face.

"No, no, that feels good," he breathed, closing his eyes again. "Keep doing that. It helps with the headache."

"Oh," Chelsea sighed in relief, and continued her motions. "I'm glad it helps. Even in the smallest way possible."

"You're helping more than you know," Vaughn said, his eyelids fluttering. "Trust me when I say that."

There was silence on her end, and Vaughn reviewed what he had said in his head, looking for anything offensive.

Cool lips met his forehead just then, cutting off the already limited thoughts traipsing through Vaughn's disoriented mind.

Chelsea pulled back with rosy cheeks, peering down from above him around a curtain of chesnut hair. He peered on back, searching.

"Lean down here a bit," Vaughn asked, still watching her.

Chelsea hesitated, but did as he asked, her face inches away from his. Her blush grew to cover his entire face, and she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. I didn't think about if that hurt -"

Vaughn leaned forward and fused his lips with her, cutting off her explanation. Her eyes widened marginally, before she regained composure. They fluttered shut

He didn't think about if it hurt, either. Because it didn't. It felt like the best thing he'd ever experienced in his lifetime.

**Author's Note: ASDFKHGOEHJRSOH. The ending sucks. I'm sorry about that. But …I hope you liked the rest of the chapter! Oh gosh, I really love the Chelsea/Vaughn pairing. Tell me what you think of this chapter, if it's good, if it sucks, too OOC. Feedback's always appreciated. Again, thank you SO. MUCH. To all of my reviewers, as well as my anonymous readers. Honestly, I keep writing this because of you all. Whenever I read a new review, I get so happy I'm almost weepy. So thank you! Hope you enjoyed it! **


	7. Spur

**Chapter 7 **

For a few blissful moments, as their lips were locked together, the pain vanished from Vaughn's body, almost as if a pillar of strength was being transferred from Chelsea as they melded together.

Chelsea resumed her earlier position on his chest, as they got lost in each other. Vaughn would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying it; he was a man, after all. A man who hadn't been in a relationship since before his four years on the Island, and that's a long time.

His mouth was on fire, more so than ever before. A trail of flames licked wherever they touched, pleasantly rising his temperature and temporarily banishing aches. Their positions switched, Vaughn leaning over her now as he touched her face, affirming that this was real, that she was really there behind his own searching hands.

Vaughn felt it when she gave up, and separated his lips from her own. Panting, their foreheads touched as he scrutinized her face, hoping that he wasn't _that_ terrible of a kisser. He may have been out of practice, but…

He froze when he saw her sky eyes squeezed shut, a fruitless attempt at shutting out the tears that were escaping down the corner of her eyes.

Bewildered, Vaughn leaned back from her, staring. "What?" he asked huskily. "What's wrong?"

Chelsea remained laying on her back, both hands covering her face. She didn't make a sound, and Vaughn's stomach dropped.

"Chelsea," he growled, pulling her hands away from her face. They were tear-streaked again, and she wouldn't meet his eyes. Vaughn's expression softened, and he sat up.

"Look, I'm…sorry about that. I thought that…maybe…Well, what I thought wasn't important. I shouldn't have done that."

Chelsea shook her head quickly, and finally looked at him. Her clear sky eyes filled with tears at his gaze, threatening to rain down her cheeks.

"This isn't real," she moaned, her trembling hands cupping her face again in misery. "It's those pills, I know it. They're making you act this way. Once they wear off…"

She cut off as the rains finally spilled, and resumed a moment later. "You won't feel the same way as now," she finished in a whisper, rolling on her side away from Vaughn. "It was a spur of the moment, and once you're back to normal, you'll just make it seem like it never happened. And that…that'll kill me inside."

Vaughn didn't know what to say. That had to be one of the most _ridiculous _things he had ever heard, and a tiny, shriveled up part of him stirred restlessly at how she could even begin to believe that. How was it even possible that she could believe he would act as though this never was? Her last sentence tugged at what he thought were, until recently, severed heartstrings.

"You're the strangest woman I know," he said faintly. "Is that really how you see me?"

Chelsea's silence was interrupted by a crisp knocking of their door. As if she were being controlled by stagehands, she flew from the bed and into the bathroom. The shower cranked on, and Vaughn heard a barely concealed sob escape from the rhythm of the water hitting tile.

Vaughn arranged himself in the bed, as if to look like nothing out of the ordinary. On cue, the door was opened, and a sea of people flooded inside. Mirabelle and Julia, he saw first, as they rushed towards the right side of the breath.

His pain returned, along with a steady throbbing of his temples, as Julia swathed Vaughn in a typical Julia hug. He suppressed a groan as she moved his head in her overbearingness; despite how he treated his aunt and cousin, it was true that he did care for them. Rather deeply, in fact. He wouldn't admit that his accident caused him to realize this, because it didn't; it just put some things into perspective.

Natalie and Pierre were behind them, to Vaughn's surprise. Natalie gave a small wave as he looked to her, and she almost smiled. Taro, Felicia, Chen, Gannon, Elliot, even Charlie and Eliza. He hadn't expected this many people to visit him, let alone care enough to find out what had happened to him. If all of these people were visiting him, nearly everyone in the Inn must have checked up on Chelsea when she had been brought back.

Voices flowed around the room like a visible stream, a current of emotions. Concern, worry, relief, astonishment, warmth.

"_How's your head feelin', boy?" _

"_Oh, that looks like it hurts…" _

"_That was mighty brave what you did, kid. Pretty stupid, but brave." _

"_How are you holding up? Is there anything we can do to help?" _

"_Chelsea better be treating you pretty darn well after that…"_

"_I know what I'll do, I'll make you a Get Well Soon cake!" _

Eliza and Charlie scurried up to the side of the bed, staring at Vaughn with big eyes and crooked smiles.

"You're a hero, mister! A superhero! You saved the day 'n everything, and you didn't even have a cape!" Charlie exclaimed, his eyes glowing with young admiration.

Eliza took Charlie's place, staring at Vaughn with unusually awed eyes. "You're like the prince in all those stories," her sweet voice added. "Saving his princess, even if he risks his own life. I hope I marry a prince like you when I'm older."

Eliza leaned over on her tiptoes and kissed Vaughn on the cheek lightly, before her small figure disappeared amongst the tall bodies surrounding his bed. He felt his cheeks growing warm and reached to pull down his hat, before he remembered it was sitting on the bedside table. Slight shellshocked, Vaughn stared at the group of people smiling at him with wide, amethyst eyes.

"I, uh…Thanks, everyone. For visiting and all," he managed, resigned to sitting and festering in his own inability to stop a blush. Everyone present collectively murmured responses, an aura of content in the air.

Vaughn nearly sighed in relief when Mirabelle spoke up to the crowd. "All right, I think it's time for the man to get some more rest," she announced loudly. "Concussions aren't something to take lightly."

Everyone nodded or spoke their agreement, and slowly dispersed the room until it was only Mirabelle, Julia, and himself left.

Vaughn sighed, honestly more tired than before. He rested his sore head on the pillow. "Thanks," he added quietly. "For getting everyone out."

"Oh, it's not a problem at all, sweetheart," Mirabelle replied warmly, her eyes crinkling with a smile. "More people care about you than you think, you know," she added, sitting at the end of the bed. "Sometimes I just don't think you want to see it."

"Aw, Mom, stop pestering him," Julia said, giving her mother a friendly eye roll. For a strange moment, Vaughn reflected on the fact that the women in his life that meant the most to him always seemed to have blue eyes. His own mother had owned a pair of them herself.

As usual, Julia interrupted Vaughn's thoughts without abandon. "Where is Chelsea?" she asked, although she had obviously already heard the shower running.

_She's been in there for a while,_ Vaughn reflected. He was certain she was avoiding having to confront any of them.

"Obviously, the shower," he replied dryly, no longer up to socializing. Julia seemed to sense this; she continued bombarding him with questions. Mirabelle was no help to him, either. The aptitude of curiousness in her slightly aged eyes was just as present as her own daughter's. It was more obvious than ever at that moment that they were closely related.

"So…what happened with you and Chelsea?" Julia pressed, a smile breaking out on her face. "I know you've already talked. Dr. Trent sent her in nearly an hour ago. He had the strangest expression on his face, too," she remembered, eyes narrowing in thought.

"Julia, I would have thought you'd have learned by now that not everything is your business," Vaughn snapped, as a particularly sharp bolt of pain lanced through his skull. The pill he had taken had dulled the worst of it, but every now and then it still hurt without warning.

"Something bad happened between you two again," Julia concluded with a frown. "Did you make up from that fight, at least?"

"We're just concerned about you, that's all," Mirabelle said in response to Vaughn's expression. "After all this, you at least deserve some happiness. Now…tell your aunt what happened."

Resenting his family, Vaughn sighed loudly, blowing his hair out of his face. His palms started sweating, and he suddenly became anxious. Before hesitation could stop him altogether, Vaughn forced himself to say it.

"I kissed her."

At the last minute, something forced him to say what his mind was dying for him to say, to tell anyone who would believe him:

"And she kissed me back."

There were a few moments of silence, which seemed to happen often lately after Vaughn talked. He was expecting Julia, all of people, to hound him with questions, and squeal like the absolute girl she was. But mother and daughter continued to sit in their spots, seemingly waiting for more.

Finally, after Mirabelle seemed to realize Vaughn had finished speaking, she sat up straighter and gave him a signature smile.

"Well of course you kissed her, sweetheart. Everyone's been waiting for that to happen for that to happen for a while now," she said, as Julia nodded in agreement.

"What are you talking about?" Vaughn growled, crossing his arms stiffly. He felt like he was missing something…Like someone unincluded in a great inside joke.

"Well, _duh_, she kissed you back. It's only extremely obvious that you two have it bad for each other. We've only known it for what, a year and a half now? Two years? I think you were the only one who didn't realize it, cousin," Julia teased, also smiling. "But it's awesome that you finally realized it. A little bit late, but better not that at all, right? So are you two a couple now?"

"I didn't admit or realize anything. And no," Vaughn replied coldly, feeling newly hostile towards Julia. He felt humiliated as well; how had everyone else supposedly known he felt the way he did towards Chelsea? Was it really that painstakingly obvious to everyone but himself? Was it obvious to Chelsea?

"Has the hurricane passed?" Vaughn suddenly asked. He had completely forgotten about the storming outside amongst everything else. What about the Island?

"Don't try and change the subject," Julia accused, at the same time Mirabelle sighed wearily.

Looking from woman to woman, Vaughn silently waited for an answer.

Mirabelle, looking from him to her daughter, was the one who finally responded. "They seem to think the worst has passed…the winds and rain have decreased a bit, but they still aren't allowing people outside. Except now, they've locked the doors." Mirabelle tried to give Vaughn a stern look, but smiled instead.

"What about the Island?" he countered, ignoring her jab. "When are they going to be able to evaluate damage?"

"Soon, hopefully," Mirabelle said with another sigh. "The city isn't for me."

"Me neither," Julia agreed with a new seriousness. "I'm sure they'll be able to get out a news helicopter out in a day or so."

"Maybe," Vaughn tried to say reassuringly, but just missed the bar. Mirabelle stood up, walked over to Vaughn's bedside once more.

"We should be going. I know you well enough to know that you aren't going to want us milling around all day, especially when there's someone else you'd rather be around." She winked, and turned to grab Julia by the wrist. It was then that Vaughn noticed the shower had been turned off, and any scarce coloring that had remained in his face then promptly was drained.

Just as they reached the door, Mirabelle turned and looked at Vaughn with a more solemn expression he had ever seen on her before. "You really had us scared for a while there, Vaughn," she murmured with troubled eyes. "For someone who rarely takes sick days, it wasn't nice to see."

Julia shuddered behind her, looking slightly haunted. "It was real bad. They got you inside and you were bleeding from the head, soaking wet, and out cold. And then you woke up and were so sick…Don't you ever do it again."

"I won't," Vaughn promised soberly, feeling a strange rushing of something in his chest.

"We're just thankful you're alright. We'll be checkin' in every so often, making sure you're not being unreasonably difficult and not resting up. And you make sure you talk to Chelsea. You must care a great deal for her, if you were willing to go out in the middle of a hurricane to get her back. She's a good girl; don't let her go easily."

Tangent finished, his aunt and cousin left him alone in the room, their parting giggles still hanging in the air.

And then Vaughn waited. There really wasn't much else for him to do; he was "restricted" to bedrest, and doubted he could walk without falling over in the first place. Cursorily, he pondered about the fact that he hadn't had to go to the bathroom since he had woken up. His insignificant train of thought crashed as the bathroom door opened, and with it, the shower fugitive Chelsea.

"Do you feel better?" Vaughn asked, taking in her informally dressed self. He took in the cuts and bruises covering her limbs, and wondered if they hurt. He inspected the way she still held her shoulder, slightly at an angle from her body, and hoped that it wouldn't be a permanent injury and put a damper on her farming. He looked at the stands of damp, ropey hair, and thought he was glad she didn't have her bandana. He looked at her eyes, the bruise-like shadows underneath them, and how they always seemed to rival the intensity at which he knew he looked at her.

"Yes," she replied delicately, fingers fraying a thread on her shorts.

"Why don't you sit down?" He asked, patting the spot next to him. Déjà vu spread across him, and Vaughn resisted the urge to wrinkle his face in distaste.

She abided to him, and he felt the bed shift as crawled on top of it. Neither of them said anything for a long time.

"So," Vaughn said, breaking the continuity of the sound of rain outside. "I kissed you."

"Yes."

"And you kissed back. Am I right so far?"

"Yes."

"Yes to what?"

"Yes, I kissed back. And yes, you're right so far."

"Alright. You heard me talking with Mirabelle and Julia."

"Some of it."

"Which part?"

"The end part."

"Okay. You think I'm going to forget us. You think it's the medication talking, that I don't really feel the way I do."

"No."

"No?"

Vaughn turned to glance at Chelsea, eyebrows raised.

"No," she repeated with more clarity. She looked straight back at him, unwavering in her gaze.

"What changed your mind?"

"Just a feeling I got."

Vaughn nodded, despite the ache, and fell silent again. Her head found its way to his shoulder, his arm somehow around her shoulder.

"What are you thinking about?" Chelsea asked, inspecting a lock of his silver hair.

"You."

"Oh," she breathed, and turned a rosy pink. For the first time since his accident, Vaughn smiled. Chelsea saw, and he watched as she struggled not to succumb to her own smile.

"Why are you smiling?" she asked, finally giving in to the tiniest grin.

"What, is it not allowed?" he retorted, wiping the smile away like steam on a window.

"Of course it's allowed," she said, her own smile dropping away with his. Two smiles gone as fast as they came. The always lurking silence took over the room again.

He watched as tears began to drip down off her chin silently, and reached out to catch one before it fell. She sniffed, and wiped at her eyes. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I don't think I've ever cried this many times in my life than in these last few days. But I can't help it. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Do you really believe I would just kiss you and then act as though it never happened?" Vaughn asked.

"No. I don't know. I don't think so. But on the smallest chance that you did…That would hurt, more than anything. I don't know what I'd do."

"There's nothing wrong with you," Vaughn muttered after a pause, closing his eyes sleepily. "Everything's right with you."

A choked, startled laugh came from Chelsea, and he reopened his eyes to see her sitting closer than before, mere inches from his face.

"Will you…kiss me again?" she asked, her eyes blooming to life before his very eyes. "I believe you now."

" You don't have to ask me twice," Vaughn drawled, before catching her lips with his own for the second time that day. The only difference this time was the confession that his own held so close to the surface, so close to being finally said outloud.

**Author's Note: Fluff! It's very fun to write, if I do say so myself. However, I tried to convey in this chapter how Chelsea and Vaughn's relationship is so much more complex than one might originally think; there's insecurity, fear, hope, companionship, and so much all jam packed into the relationship. That's why I'm having them take it so slowly. Vaughn IS very, very close to openly confessing, though…So keep a look out for the next chapters! As usual, tell me what you think in a review if you'd like; what I did right, what I did wrong, what you think of the characters, constructive criticism. Heck, just tell me how much you love Vaughn. Anyways, hoped you like it, feedback is very appreciated, and I hope you all have a very nice day!**


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